


For Auld Lang Syne

by OnionsAreDisgusting



Series: Help Me Make It Through the Night [1]
Category: Neopets
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anorexia, Backstory, Bittersweet Ending, Blood and Gore, Dark, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/F, Graphic Description of Corpses, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Violence, Nightmares, Reconciliation, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, Unresolved Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:01:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 60,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21657205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnionsAreDisgusting/pseuds/OnionsAreDisgusting
Summary: Illusen is loved. Jhudora is feared. Jhudora doesn't have any friends. Illusen has one.She was the one to light the match and set the bridges ablaze, but there isn't a force in the world powerful enough to stop her from building it up again.
Relationships: Illusen/Jhudora (Neopets)
Series: Help Me Make It Through the Night [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1756480
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	1. Because You're Mine; I Walk the Line

It was easy enough to plaster on a serene smile for any Neopian that needed it and hand out words of encouragement like it was candy. Those that visited Illusen weekly, sometimes daily, to run a simple errand were used to her charismatic nature and sunny disposition, but that didn’t stop them from soaking up her gratitude like a parched sponge. Illusen rarely left her Glade; anyone who wanted to earn her good graces, as they put it, would have to seek her out themselves. 

Her Glade was a sanctuary to those in need of a strong oak to rest under when the sun began its descent or when the torrents of rain began to violently splash down. It provided shade for the weary and ripe, sunkissed fruit for the impoverished. Illusen knew why so many Neopians sought her good graces, even if they didn’t know why themselves, but the kind-hearted and generous vastly overshadowed the greedy and craven. 

One, in particular, caught her attention: a cheery, bouncy, purple Blumaroo that was too quick to trust and even quicker to see the good in someone. His name was Tati, he hailed from Roo Island, and he loved to bounce. Despite living hundreds of miles away, Tati always arrived on time to meet Illusen every Tuesday and Friday and sometimes would stop by outside of his normal visiting hours just to chat. She enjoyed his company. Tati was simple, but simple folk were often the most genuine and their hearts remained pure and honest. 

Illusen watched as her friend bounced along the dirt road to meet her. It was Friday, after all. Never did he complain about his long journey, but he did sometimes comment that the more he bounced, the happier he felt. Just like their last meeting, Tati was all smiles. Illusen had never seen a sad Blumaroo. The thought of it was like an oxymoron. 

“G’afternoon, Miss Illusen!” The smile came easy to her as she greeted him back and watched him ruffle through his blue backpack. He carried it around everywhere he went and didn’t seem perturbed by the loose threads barely supporting the straps or the weathered buttons that had popped off and been stitched back on endless times. 

“Good afternoon, Tati. How are you keeping?” He beamed and teetered on his feet as he struggled to pry an object free from his backpack. Illusen smiled and gently held the backpack as Tati worked on wiggling the item out of the bag. It came loose after a successful tug and Tati fell back, a rather large and heavy-looking book clasped in his arms. He sat up, shook himself off, and bounced back to Illusen to proudly present his offering, a green and white striped book with a piece of tropical coloured fruit on the cover. 

She took the book and gingerly flipped through the pages. There was an abundance of recipes for jams, preserves, and detailed instructions for how to pickle fruits and vegetables. It would be quite useful in aiding the hungry. She closed the book. 

“Tati,” Illusen looked to see his bright and eager face positively glowing. “Have you read this book before? It looks very informative.” 

He shook his head and nearly toppled onto the ground. “I don’t think so. We don’t have many books on Roo Island.” 

“Well then, how about you read this one?” She held out the book to him, waggling it a bit as an incentive. “You’ve come all this way and done great favour in fetching it for me, I think it’s only fair that you get to read it first.” 

He gasped and curled his tail. “Do you really mean it, Miss Illusen?” 

“I do. Go ahead and rest, Tati, enjoy yourself.” He giggled and bounced over to a large oak tree, plopping down at its base and flipping open the book. 

While Tati read and occasionally let out peeps of excitement at the new recipes and diagrams, Illusen busied herself by trimming overlapping vines, plucking intrusive weeds that managed to sprout through the thick layer of topsoil, and removing stray branches that may trip an unsuspecting Neopian. 

The air was more humid than usual and smelled faintly sweet. Illusen looked to the sky and saw the silhouette of a dark cloud in the distance. Rain was speeding towards them, and it looked to be a downpour. Thankfully, the cloud remained in the distance and gave her more time to prepare for bad weather. She could only hope that the cloud wasn’t feeling spontaneous and decide to unleash its fury while the farmers were out collecting their produce or right after she’d managed to get a modest campfire going. 

By the time she had produced a relatively branch free forest ground, Tati was in the middle of frantically stuffing his belongings back into his backpack. He lifted his head from his manic work and stared at Illusen with wide, alert eyes when she called his name. The green book that he had so gracefully brought for her was carefully, albeit rather quickly, handed back to her. 

“Trying to beat the rain?” She asked, trying to slow his frantic movements. A nervous sweat had begun to build upon his forehead and Tati hastily wiped it away while slinging his backpack onto his shoulders. Once more, Illusen saw how taut the straps were pulled and how the bag was nearly bursting at the seams. 

“Oh, no, Miss Illusen, not at all! I don’t mind the rain one bit!” He shifted his weight and teetered on his legs. Thankfully, he decided against bouncing on his tail; the weight of his body and his bag would probably sprain it. Illusen made a mental note to harvest some tree sap and work it into a healing paste for further visits. 

Tati smiled sheepishly, though his eyes were still nervous. “I forgot that I was supposed to meet someone before sundown.” The sun hung in the middle of the sky, partially hidden by fluffy, white clouds. “If I leave soon, I should be able to make it just before dusk.” 

Illusen smiled and stowed away the book for safekeeping. The next time Tati returned, she’d allow him to continue reading where he’d left off. “Where are you off to, Tati?” 

“Faerieland, Miss Illusen!” He didn’t elaborate further and tested an experimental bounce on his tail. It endured the combined weight of Tati and his pack and propelled him a few inches into the air. 

Illusen figured that one of the faeries had snatched him up while he was touring Faerie City and embarked him on one of their quests. Tati, being the sweet and generous Blumaroo he was, didn’t even think to refuse. 

“Would you like some provisions for your travel? Perhaps some soothing balm or a potion?” 

Tati shook his head and gave a few more cautious bounces before springing into the air with renewed confidence. Illusen smiled at him and produced a small gift wrapped with fresh lotus leaves, still as green and lively as the day she’d picked them. 

“At the very least, accept this.” Tati took the offered parcel with curious hands and gingerly unwrapped the leaves. His snout broke into a wide grin when colourful, frosted cookies in the shape of little stars and hearts stared back at him. 

He squealed and hastily wrapped his present back up, holding it tight in his grip. Illusen watched him dance about in joy and felt her mood begin to lighten. A Blumaroo’s joy was always infectious. 

Tati departed her glade before the sun could dip any further down the sky and the road he travelled down to reach her remained empty long after his quick departure. Illusen snuffed out her campfire and retreated into the safety of trees.

*

It rained the rest of the week. The old dirt road that Tati and many others travelled on soon turned muddy, swampy, and unsavoury for any Neopian to traverse. Illusen didn’t have many visitors the rest of the week, the ones who braved the bad weather to visit didn’t stay long. 

A grey coloured Draik was kind enough to bring her some fresh pies from his modest bakery situated in Meridell. Though he vehemently refused, Illusen bestowed upon him a few of her natural potions and an additional rain resistance spell. It would save his wooden cart from becoming waterlogged and prevent him from having to wipe water out of his eyes every so often. His drooping whiskers dripped with cold rainwater. 

Her Glade was alive with the sound of rustling trees, torrential rain, and squawking, restless birds. Illusen stored the still-warm pies with the rest of her foodstuffs in her humble cottage deep in the heart of her Glade. While she would rather be among the trees, the voracious downpour and looming threat of lightning made her retreat into her small house. The wood in her fireplace was soaked through with cold rain falling down her chimney. 

Illusen tossed out the wet wood and blocked off the chimney tube. Perhaps she’d commission the local carpenter to fashion her a device that would prevent the rain from soaking her fireplace. She was forced to expend a few twinkles of magic to light her emergency candles as her main source of heat was currently waterlogged. 

With another flick of her fingertips, the cauldron of water she’d managed to fill without accidentally spilling buddled and sent wisps of hot steam into the air. She prepared a simple meal of boiled root vegetables and half of one of the vegetarian pies that the Draik baker had graciously gifted her. She ate quietly, watching the raindrops splatter against her window and the long branches of the nearby trees thwack against the strong glass. The inevitable burden of loneliness that came with her life of solitude was alleviated by the sheer number of Neopets that visited her, the offerings of food and supplies they donated to her, and the knowledge that she would always have a home in Faerieland, as was in her birthright. 

She’d chosen this life, after all, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have the occasional bout of crushing loneliness. 


	2. But it Wouldn't be Make-Believe if You Believed in Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BIG ASS TRIGGER WARNING: the gore and violence tags apply to this chapter.

The tumultuous amounts of rain left Illusen’s forest wet, green, and glistening for days afterwards. The blistering sun was unable to brown the leaves or scorch the grass. Every piece of vegetation was choking with moisture. 

Tati had visited her again, just as he always did on Tuesdays, bringing with him his overstuffed backpack and an indomitably positive attitude. Currently, he sat under the shade of the strong oak tree, continuing his reading of the recipe book he had begun reading last Friday. 

While her friend’s presence calmed Illusen, the chilling wind that swept her way every time the sun was blocked by thick, rolling clouds sent a shiver down her spine. The soothing green of the forest seemed much more sinister as if the shadows underneath the trees squirmed and writhed the longer she looked at them. 

Illusen left Tati to his affairs, blissfully ignorant her of building discomfort, and ventured into her glade. Though the rain had brought a blissful respite from the scorching heat of the summer sun, it also brought chilling winds and the soft, haunting moans that signified the slow transition into autumn. Invisible to the average Neopian eye, the leaves had gradually begun to shed their summer green in lieu of autumn’s orange and yellow long before the low moaning reached Illusen’s trained ear. 

She took a deep breath and forcibly stilled the maverick tapping of her finger against her thigh. Her Glade was as familiar to her as the lines of her palm or the texture of her hair. Despite her high degree of familiarity, she propelled her stiff legs forward, one heavy step at a time, into the deep, dark heart of the forest. The air grew colder and thinner as she walked and smelled faintly of decay. 

The pungent aroma of sulfur and rot intensified as she slowly crept towards a broken tree trump, snapped violently and charred by the tumultuous force only a cold bolt of lightning could possess. It stank so badly that Illusen’s eyes watered and she held her nose and covered her mouth with her hand as she carefully inspected what remained of a sturdy cedar tree. She could taste the unpleasant smoke and char that wafted towards her. 

The great cedar tree was dead. No amount of faerie restorative magic or willpower would be enough to revive it from the cold clutches of death. Someone, or something, had dragged the top away once the tree snapped and fell, leaving a shallow path of disturbed and darkened grass littered with leaves burnt to a miserable crisp. 

The jagged edges of the remaining stump housed pearly white maggots and plump grubs. The tree trunk wept black ash as the decomposers ate away and nestled deeper into its bowels. Illusen cringed and tore her eyes away from the revolting sight. Still holding a hand to her face, she travelled down the decaying path and felt the forest bend around her in desperation. It wasn’t long before she had to stop and empty her stomach of what little food she had eaten in the morning. Small bits of the savoury pie she had the night before came up alongside her breakfast of berries. It was hard to tell what was digested food and what were the remains of an unfortunate baby Acara.

There was no skeleton, and that horrified Illusen the most. The grass shifted with the breeze as Illusen dropped onto the ground and huddled around herself, careful not to disturb the abhorrent mass of sticky muscles and sinew. It laid perfectly in the centre of the decayed path Illusen followed, a gruesome barricade between an inquisitive mind and a possible solution. Illusen’s body shook with silent sobs and she had long removed her hand from her nose and pressed it tightly over her mouth as fat tears flowed freely from her eyes. 

While she could not see the heap of torn ligaments, the smell remained. By Fyora, the _smell_. The cautious scent of sulfur had long drifted away the further Illusen was from the decomposing tree stump, but the stench of heinous murder and emptied bowels hung over her shoulders and neck like a restrictive cloak that only grew heavier the longer she stayed. 

Her bones felt cold and her nose burned as she took heaving breaths of air, inadvertently peppering her tongue with the taste of decay. She vomited again on the path of dead grass. Illusen wiped her mouth and shut her eyes, squeezing them tightly as more tears dripped from her face onto the dark grass below. 

The bushes rustled and Illusen snapped her head towards the sound. She was on her feet in an instant, her wings furling out from behind her. Nothing emerged. There was no sound except for her laboured breathing and Illusen understood that she was utterly alone with the mangled, desecrated corpse of a red Acara. 

The skin gripped the muscle in clumps sticky with brown blood and stringy dried veins. Whatever had murdered the poor thing only wanted its bones, not the organs, the skin, or the flesh. Illusen clenched her hands into shaking fists and swallowed, resisting the urge to dry heave until her stomach was sore and her eyes and nose were runny. 

A quiet, nearly imperceptible wheeze came from the mangled pile and she stared, stricken with guilt and disbelief, as a large beetle crawled its way out from between the bloated organs. It hissed and fluttered its large wings at her and skittered away. Illusen felt faint. 

There was no more activity to be had, no more sound to be made and the corpse in front of her lay dormant. She turned around and sprinted out of the forest, back into the safety of her familiar Glade where the sun shone through the foliage and the stink of sulfur and decay was nowhere to be found. In her haste and desperation, she failed to notice a creature made of bone and purple fire peek its head out from the shadows and regard the pile of muscle and flesh with apathy. It already had what it needed. 

As Illusen ran, long branches seemed to reach down and attempt to trip her. Those that weren’t long or sturdy enough caressed her limbs and slapped against her face as she ran by. _Stay_ , the forest pressured, erupting large rocks and tiny, sharp pebbles from the ground to sting her bare feet. When she stumbled or knocked against a jutting rock or obstructive tree branch, her wings flapped and propelled her forward while shallow breaths escaped from her wide, open mouth that still gaped in horror. 

The sun was halfway down the orange sky when Illusen broke through the trees. Tati jumped in shock as her state of disarray and his stumpy feet accidentally knocked over his bulging backpack. 

“Miss Illusen!” He cried and waddled over to her side as quickly as she could. She was covered in a multitude of tiny cuts running up and down her arms while small, black bruises peppered her legs. Her eyes were swollen from crying and her pupils were blown wide with adrenaline and fear. Illusen’s skin, beautifully bronzed and speckled with freckles, was bleached white. Her chest heaved as she took in gulps of air and Tati felt utterly useless as he watched his dear friend shake. He put a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“Tati..” Illusen croaked out, turning her head to look into his dark eyes. Her lip was split and a thin gash ran its course down the side of her temple. Tati wiggled his toes in apprehension; Illusen was so, so cold. 

“Don’t go into the forest.” Tati swallowed and nodded. There was nothing more he could do. 

*

Illusen’s dreams were bedevilled by nightmares. She was back in the decaying forest, seated on the stump with the desecrated corpse nestled in her lap. She could feel the maggots and the thick, plump larva wiggling under her. To her side, the beetle hissed and jumped back into the organs. She felt it tickle her fingers as it roamed around in the putrid organs. She didn’t dare to look down and face the horrific truth. Her hands, against her violation, squeezed a bloated organ until it burst and coated her hands with the slimy, foul-smelling liquid. She had destroyed the poor thing’s stomach and the maggots writhed even quicker, the beetle’s screeching grew louder until she finally opened her eyes and stared down at the empty eye sockets and sticky, black gums. 

Illusen awoke in her bed, squeezing her pillow with a grip that threatened to spill its feathery innards everywhere. She rushed to the bathroom and turned on the faucet, dunking her hands in water as hot as her tap could provide and scrubbing until she felt her skin begin to peel. Only then did she withdraw her hands and bring herself to look at her reflection in the mirror. Dark eyebags curling underneath red, bloodshot eyes stared back at her. Her hair was lifeless and messy, with tight tangles that she couldn’t comb out with a pass of her fingers. Her split lip was slowly healing, but the crack looked especially wide this morning. 

She felt cold and clammy. Goosebumps formed on her skin as she reflected on her vivid nightmare. The most recent nightmare was relatively tame. Other nights she would find herself feasting on the Acara’s innards, snapping intestine between her teeth and splitting open the stomach to guzzle down the fluids. 

Her stomach turned and her throat burned with bile. Illusen bent over the sink and waited for the vomit to spill out of her mouth like it did two nights before. It never came and left her with the feeling of bloated hotness that would follow her for the rest of the day as she wandered listlessly around Meridell. It was Sunday. No one ever came to see her on Sunday. 

With nothing better to do, she paid a short visit to Meri Acres Farm. Dansel greeted her at the gate in his usual garb, only remarking how unusual it was to see her outside her Glade. Illusen smiled, accidentally showing too many teeth, and paid the standard fee despite Dansel’s insistence that her cost was waived.

Picking berries would calm her down, she reassured herself. She fluttered above the plump, green bushes, each bearing heavy, dangling fruits. Some fruits, Illusen discovered to her dismay, had a chunk taken out of its flesh by an overeager Neopian. The teeth marks were distinctively visible on the fruit’s red surface. 

She felt the fiery sensation of bile rising in her throat and backed away from the half-eaten pile before her stomach could empty itself all over the nearby bushes. The fruit trees were a much safer option for her overly imaginative mind. Illusen gathered many sunkissed berries, enough to make into a couple of pies or last her a few days of eating. 

Meri Acres Farm was much busier during the afternoon than it was in the morning when she arrived. Children shrieked in delight and played in the hay bales, the berry bushes, and a few adventurous Kougras were locked in competition to see who could climb the tallest tree the fastest. Illusen made herself scarce and retreated away from the boisterous scene before anyone saw her. She wasn’t in the best of moods or the healthiest mental state for conversation. She had no other plans for the remainder of the day; there was nowhere for her to go but back to her Glade. 

Much to her surprise, Tati was waiting for her, happy, beady eyes and all. His expression morphed from joy to grave concern when he saw her trudge along the stone path, but he waited patiently for Illusen to return home to her sanctuary. 

“Hallo, Miss Illusen!” He called to her when she graced him with one of her usual smiles. Illusen was tired, her brain was irritatingly active, but Tati was like blessed rain after a long, dry drought. 

“Good afternoon to you, Tati.” He bound up to her and engulfed her midriff in a tight hug. Blumaroos weren’t renown for their upper body strength, but their tails were large and muscular. Tati preferred to show off his meagre upper body strength through hugs. 

“How are you feeling?” He asked her. Illusen shook her head and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. She felt disgusting, revolted, abhorred, and utterly desperate to forget the gruesome horrors she saw yesterday. 

“I’m a little tired, Tati, but I’ll be all right.” She would be all right, but never the same. It would be impossible for anyone to walk away from that… scene the same as they were before. 

“D’ya wanna talk about it, Miss Illusen?” Tati leaned back on his tail. Illusen followed suit and sat down on a tree stump. It wouldn’t be fair for her to unload all of her mental anguish onto her unassuming friend. She didn’t want to scar him for life, much less scare him away for good. 

“Aren’t you busy today, Tati? It’s Sunday, after all.” He shook his fuzzy head and bounced his tail. 

“Not at all!” He momentarily ceased his bouncing and put a hand to his head, scratching it. 

“Well, actually, there is an errand I have to run, but I don’t have to be there until sundown!” Illusen blinked in surprise. It was a long way from Meridell to Roo Island, and while the roads were generally safe, she wasn’t sure it was economical for an innocent Blumaroo to be wandering around in the dark. 

“What sort of errand?” She prodded him gently, trying to wring out as much information without seeming interrogative. Tati was more than happy to be the centre of conversation. 

“Oh, I’m on a quest to fetch some medicine! I was going to head to Faerieland, but I thought it couldn’t hurt to stop by Meridell and see how you were doing!” He swung his backpack around to his front and pulled out some lotus leaves, a bottle of holly suspended in clear liquid, a bundle of skinny, grey dandelion roots, and a small sack of dried brown mushrooms.

“Medicine?” Illusen looked over the collection of restoratives laid out in front of her. “Are you sick, Tati?” 

“Oh, no, not me, I’m as healthy as a Kau!”

“Well, a lot of these medicinal restoratives heil from Shenkuu. Are you delivering them to a friend who lives far away?” He nodded his head and nearly flopped onto the ground.

“In Faerieland!” Illusen smiled slightly at the mention of her birthplace. With his colour and pleasant personality, Tati would fit right in with the faerie denizens. It had been a while since Illusen paid a visit to her birthplace, and with yesterday’s horrific events still tumbling around in her mind… 

“Would you like some company, Tati? I know I left Faerieland of my own accord, but it would be nice to see the city once more.” She smiled as Tati enthusiastically stuffed his restoratives back inside his pack and heaved it onto his shoulders. 

“I’d be more than delighted to travel with you, Miss Illusen!” He beamed and took her hand, bouncing on his tail. It was like a thick, coiled metal spring. 

Illusen soon found herself miles away from the safety and comfort of her Glade with nothing but the clothes on her back, a small pouch of Neopoints tucked away in her pocket, and a small, wooden dagger expertly carved out of hawthorn wood and imbibed with forest magic. Defensive measures weren’t in the forefront of her mind, but the weight of the dagger and the smoothness of its polished handle gave her a blanket of security. Tati bounced beside her in comfortable silence. 

Faerieland, pink, green and prosperous, soon came into view as Illusen leaded Tati out of a small clearing. He had bounced the entire way and gave no indication of tiring. Illusen picked a leaf out from behind his ears. 

Faerieland was as busy as she remembered. Although they had yet to make it into the main hub, the outskirts were lined with merchant tents, vendor stalls, and rugs with assorted artifacts, vegetables, and curios for sale. Illusen took to fluttering inches above the dirt path to avoid accidentally stepping on trinkets. 

Zealous vendors hawked their wares and shouted over each other despite the lack of customers. Tourists typically stayed within the main hub and rarely traversed outside the inner circle. Exotic goods and strange delicacies unfitting of high faerie society were sold within the outer rings. It was no mere coincidence that those who lived in the outer ring were, on average, impoverished. 

Tati stopped to look at a shiny, green bauble. He carefully held it in his hands, inspecting it for any cracks or disfigurements. Illusen paused, surveying her surroundings. The outer ring’s market area had expanded a great deal since she was a child and pushed the community homes and living spaces towards the edge. She left Tati to his own devices for a brief moment and headed west, past the throngs of tents and the hoards of merchants. Her head was cloudy with the sudden influx of nostalgia and repressed memories. Her legs, acting on pure muscle memory, lead her to a dilapidated brick building. 

Its doors were boarded shut and the windows were streaked with thin cracks. The white brick, which once resembled fine marble, was colonized by dark green moss and low hanging vines. Weeds sprouted wherever there was light and open soil. It was jarring to think that in just a few hundred years, the orphanage that she had grown up in was now mouldy, unkempt, and thoroughly abandoned.

The boards were tough despite their warn veneer. Illusen backed away from her childhood home, taking one final look for old time’s sake, and flew back to the marketplace where she would find Tati purchasing the shiny bauble after hefty bargaining. Despite her best efforts to maintain a cheery facade, a hand of woeful nostalgia and wistfulness grabbed her neck and squeezed it tight. Outwardly, Illusen was impervious to its grip and smiled as Tati held up his purchase for her to see. Her heart ached for the lost memories she had spent in the now dilapidated orphanage. Time had not been kind to it. 

Tati led her out of the marketplace and deeper into Faerieland’s main hub. It wasn’t long before they had approached the edge of the outer ring and entered the inner sanctum. The change was instantaneous: the faeries that lived within the main cities were vibrant, variegated, and boisterous. The dirt path had been replaced by shiny, white cobblestone, tall marble towers and complex architecture replaced patched tents and impromptu market stalls. A faint scent of cinnamon and rosewater wafted through the air. Guard faeries were positioned just out of sight, but their numbers were large enough to dissuade any thought of petty crimes. 

Illusen spotted the Hidden Tower peeking just above the thick layer of clouds and mist, partially obscured by the numerous other buildings. She’d never been up there, but the rumour was that it stocked ancient weapons, coveted artifacts, and priceless potions for outrageous prices. 

Faerie City was certainly a place to behold. Tati bounced in place as Illusen tried to gather her bearings. It had been too long since she’d visited such an urban area. In her modest footwraps and hand-sewn dress, she was beginning to feel a little under-dressed. If she looked as out of place as she felt, Illusen didn’t show it. 

Tati grasped her hand and led her out of Faerie City. That wasn’t their destination, and he told her he’d accidentally gotten lost. She couldn’t blame him; Faerieland’s infrastructure and design made it almost labyrinth-like. 

“Who’s the medicine for?” Illusen asked him. Faerie City was behind them, the loud ambience of the urban environment slowly faded as they walked westward. Tati shuffled his feet and nearly tripped over a protruding rock. He gripped his backpack tighter and sprang back onto his tail, brushing dirt and debris off his feet. 

“She can come off as imposing, but she’s rather nice to me!” He said, choosing his words carefully. Illusen raised a curious eyebrow at his vague statement. The grass beneath their feet gradually grew darker the further they left Faerie City. 

“Do I know her?” She asked. Tati squirmed and waggled his toes. 

“You might.” He said and climbed over a rather large rock. “Daily Neopia says you do.” She rarely read the paper because few rounds circulated through Meridell. A feeling of apprehension bloomed in her stomach and circulated through her body like poison. 

“Tati?” She stopped him. He looked twitchy and uncomfortable. “If this woman’s making you do something unsavoury--” 

He held out his hands and shook his head. “I’m willing, I am! I wanted to help her, Miss Illusen!” His panicked tone wasn’t reassuring in the slightest. A small bead of sweat rolled down his forehead. The temperature was nice, not too chilly, yet not too hot. The sun was on its way down, casting a long shadow from every tree. There was no reason Tati should have been perspiring. 

“Who is this woman?” Illusen held onto his shoulder, preventing him from climbing over any more rocks or thick tree roots. Her feeling of apprehension had been replaced with a cold feeling of dread.

Tati clamped down on his jaw, shaking his head. Instead, he lifted his hand and pointed at the dark, imposing castle supported by a thick, curling tree trunk, wide and tall enough to block out the sun at its zenith. Illusen set her mouth into a thin line. Upon closer examination, the castle seemed to be made of the same material as the Darigan Fortress that loomed over Meridell and stressed King Skarl to the point of sourness. The bricks were cragged, walls were missing, and giant spires erupted from the ground in a show of power and utter overcompensation. Illusen was barely daunted, if not unimpressed. 

She followed Tati up the dirt road and stopped when he abruptly paused in front of a sudden cliff drop. As if sensing their presence, stairs made of the same craggy, dark brick materialized and fit together to create a stable pathway from Faerieland to the suspended island. They climbed in silence. Tati resorted to waddling up the stairs using his feet. He wasn’t comfortable with bouncing at this altitude. 

Illusen’s wings fluttered and ascended at a brisk pace. There was a sound of crumbling and Illusen didn’t dare look back to check if the stairs had begun to fall away from behind them. Tati snuck a peek and blanched. 

The castle was all the more imposing up close. There was no front entrance, nor a moat or drawbridge. Thick trees surrounded them from all sides, obstructing the view of Faerieland and Faerie City down below. There was, however, a large cave opening situated into the natural overpass. The castle must’ve been constructed into the cave. 

Tati gripped her hand. Illusen felt him shake with fright and gave him a comforting squeeze. She walked forward, past the dark trees and jagged shadows. The cave was made of cold, grey stone rather than the polished cobblestone or white marble so abundant in the civilization below. The temperature was frigid. 

There was a fire: a warm, crackling fire. A bubbling cauldron sat on top of the fire. Behind the cauldron was a makeshift table littered with open books, potion ingredients, and worn tools. There was a wooden stool with three legs and a sturdy shelf crammed full of books. Potion bottles, a few still retaining drops of their brew, were strewn carelessly over the cave floor. Tati shifted from one foot to the other and the silence stretched on. Whoever lived in this cave was gone. Illusen stepped inside, her long shadow cast over the cauldron and messy table as she walked past the fire to reach the bookshelf. 

_Biological Encyclopedia of 14 Basic Neopian Algaes Vol. 12. The Magic of the Healing Springs. Book of Chemical Reactions. Spells that Heal. Advanced Curses. 101 Leafy Uses._

Illusen jolted backwards in surprise. She’d written that one!

Tati cleared his throat, bouncing nervously on his tail to calm his jitters. Footsteps rang out from deep within the cave and Illusen scrambled away from the bookshelf. She felt Tati’s reassuring hands straighten her back before she could stumble and trip over the bubbling cauldron. 

He held his backpack in front of his chest like a protective ward. The fire crackled as the footsteps grew soft and a figure dressed in a black cloak emerged from the darkness. Illusen unconsciously stiffened, straightening her back and setting a protective hand on Tati’s shoulder. 

“You’re back.” The figure said and Illusen could feel her mind working to place a name to that familiar voice. “And you brought vermin with you?” 

Tati shook his head. “No, Ma’am! I brought you the restoratives you asked for!” 

“You’re quicker than I expected. Let’s see them.” Illusen didn’t have to see the woman’s face to visualize the apathy. The boredom in her voice was enough. 

Tati unzipped his backpack and dug out his treasures. He handed the bottle of submerged holly and the small bundle of grey dandelion roots to the cloaked woman. In his hands, he held the large lotus leaves and a bag of dried mushrooms. 

“Very good. These will do nicely.” She pushed back her hood and Illusen bite down on her tongue, tasting blood and feeling the hot blush of anger erupt over her skin. 

“Jhudora.” She whispered with great difficulty. Jhudora barely paid her a glance as she inspected the items Tati had brought for her. 

The last time she had seen Jhudora was nearly over a hundred and twenty years ago. Illusen vividly remembered the billowing column of smoke, the piercing shrieks of agony and the taste of despair that had coated her tongue for weeks afterwards. The sheer desperation of Jhudora’s face as she enacted violence and coated her hands in the blood of an innocent faerie tattooed itself in Illusen’s memory, haunting her in her sleep. It had been the final nail in the coffin. Faerieland was no longer a whimsical place of magic and wonder. 

“You..” Illusen managed to pry her tongue from between her teeth. “How _dare_ you!” 

Tati swallowed and moved to pacify her. Jhudora stared at her with the same apathetic gaze that she cast upon them when they arrived. Illusen’s eyes were bright with angry tears and Jhudora studied every minute twitch of her cheek and throb of a vein. 

“What are all these?” Jhudora gestured to the lotus leaves and bag of mushrooms. “I don’t recall asking you to bring me those.” 

“Well, I thought you might want them! You’re collecting restoratives and herbal medicine, aren’t you?” Tati gave Illusen’s arm a cautionary squeeze. She felt her anger slowly ebb out of her, leaving her drained and slightly light-headed. Being in Jhudora’s presence, especially after all this time, irritated her beyond belief. 

Jhudora breathed out a quiet sigh and gathered the additional gifts into her arms. She placed them on the messy table and gathered a wrapped bundle from her locked chest. 

“I’ll find a use for them. Here is your reward.” Tati took the bundle with glee and set to packing it into his backpack. 

Jhudora waved her hand and a thin needle engulfed in pale purple light rushed toward the splitting seam on the strap of Tati’s backpack. It worked quickly to patch up the tear with a strong, invisible string. Illusen watched the needlework with a tightly clenched jaw, tapping her finger against her upper thigh in irritation. 

When the tear was successfully patched, the needle zipped back into its pincushion and lost its magical, purple aura. Tati tested the strap with a cautious tug and grinned, slipping his backpack onto his shoulders with ease. 

“Thanks, Miss Jhudora! It’s as good as new!” Jhudora nodded and briefly glanced at Illusen, taking her in once more. While her jaw was still clenched, the fiery anger in her eyes had long since burnt out. 

“How about I send you home, Tati?” Jhudora walked to the centre of the room and gestured for Tati to do the same. She picked up a jar of grey dust and unscrewed the top. Tati bumbled forward and stood still as Jhudora sprinkled dust onto his head, just between his floppy ears. 

“What about Miss Illusen?” He asked, eyes wide as the dust swirled around him like a vortex. Jhudora waved away his question. 

“She’s a big girl. She can make it home without an escort.” Her deadpan wasn’t lost on Illusen, who turned away from Tati’s rapidly disappearing form to shoot a glare at Jhudora. She didn’t expect a warm welcome back into her former friend’s life, but the deadpan snark was a new development. 

Jhudora stowed away her magic dust once Tati had been transported back to Roo Island. Illusen stood in the middle of the cave, watching Jhudora mosey around as if she wasn’t there. Tension hung around her neck like an albatross and it weighed down on her shoulders and back. On their own accord, her fists had curled into tight balls, her knuckles as white as powdered snow. Her fingers would be sore tomorrow morning. 

Her body was wound up tighter than a spring. Standing on her own two feet soon became strenuous on her leg muscles; Illusen fluttered with absolute presence while Jhudora continued to study her tomes, muttering under her breath every so often in a language Illusen couldn’t comprehend. The too-tense silence and stifling ambience that permeated around them like a scratchy woolen blanket wouldn’t have existed a mere hundred and thirty years ago. 

One hundred and thirty years ago, they would’ve been rolling down a grassy hill in delight. Illusen would’ve reached over and rubbed the green grassy stain that covered Jhudora’s nose and Jhudora would’ve complained that Illusen pushed her. Now, every molecule of Illusen’s body felt like it was going to implode if Jhudora kept her back to her. 

“Fyora--” 

“Knows that I am here.” Jhudora seamlessly interrupted her. Illusen clenched back down on her jaw, resisting the urge to chew on her tongue until it bled. 

“Why would Tati help you?” Her question came out too venomous for her liking. “He’s pure-hearted and good. You’re--” 

“Diabolical? Despicable? Abhorrent?” Jhudora listed off the many adjectives spewed her way over the years, counting her fingers as she did so. “Heinous? Black-hearted? Malevolent and maleficent?” Illusen’s cheeks flushed with anger. Truly, Jhudora had not changed one bit. She was still as pompous and presumptuous as ever. 

“All of the above.” She said. “What incentive are you dangling in front of him? Money? Power? Short term fame and prosperity?” Jhudora looked up from her tome, slightly affronted that such trivial accusations be made against her. 

“None of the above.” She said, voice rising an octave to poorly mimic Illusen’s own. “He came to me, not the other way around. I can’t fault him for being curious; I am, after all, one of the few dark stains on Faerieland’s otherwise pristine record.” 

Illusen crossed her arms, slightly puffing out her chest. She didn’t believe the smooth words that came tumbling out of Jhudora’s mouth. There was no other explanation for the apathetic tone, the look of sheer disregard and boredom in her eyes. Jhudora had never been one to use such self-deprecatory language. 

“Tati has many questions regarding the history of Faerieland.” She said. Illusen shook her head. 

“Impossible. If he did, he would’ve just asked me.” Jhudora clicked her tongue and pushed a stray strand of dark purple hair out of her face. 

“His questions delve deep into philosophical matters.” She continued as Illusen’s outburst had never happened. “Last week he asked me why such negative stigmas were associated with dark and fire faeries.” 

Illusen narrowed her eyes. “And what did you tell him?” 

“I didn’t answer.” Jhudora shrugged and nearly rolled her eyes at Illusen’s incredulous look. “Give me an ounce of credit. As a scholar of magical history-- and yes, that encompasses Faerieland’s political history-- I try to remain unbiased.” They stared at each other for in terse silence. Jhudora broke it by flipping a page of her tome. 

“It would’ve been all too easy to tell him that dark faeries were considered to be untrustworthy and naturally predisposed to evil, or that fire faeries were regarded as impulsive and prone to kleptomaniac tendencies, but it wouldn’t have been fair.” She paused, a glassy look in her eyes. “Nor would it have been correct.” 

Illusen’s anger flared and overtook her common sense. “Since when do you care about what’s fair?” 

“I don’t. Make no mistake, I’m not above stepping on others to get what I want, but when it comes to history…” She trailed off, letting Illusen stew in her anger for a long moment. “I try to take into account how my words may affect such a malleable, young mind.” 

Coming from anyone else, those same words may have sounded noble and considerate. Since they came from Jhudora’s mouth, Illusen knew better than to take her words at face value. She always had a hidden motive. 

She knew all about Jhudora’s promises to grant innocent Neopians artifacts of immeasurable dark power, or weapons capable of bestowing mass destruction upon their foes. Granted, she had never seen anyone amble around with a life-destroying potion or a magical star powered by dark novas, but the incentive was there, and for power-hungry individuals, it would be more than enough. 

She didn’t have eyes everywhere; her realm of influence was contained to Meridell and the forest behind her Glade. Jhudora had the potential to plant spies everywhere, from Faerieland to Terror Mountain if she felt like it. 

“You don’t believe me.” Jhudora shut her tome and turned to face Illusen. Her cloak hung limply around her shoulders and sagged even more when Jhudora reached behind the table to grab a gnarled staff. 

“No.” Illusen’s heart shot into her throat and she backed up a few paces before Jhudora could shoot a blast of dark energy at her. She didn’t want to go home with any burns. 

Jhudora stared at her, eyes weary and mouth angled into a slight frown. She gripped her staff in both hands and held it out horizontally so that its length bisected her body in two. Illusen flinched and held her arms out in front of her, protecting her upper body from the imminent magical blast. She’d forgotten her shield at home and a wooden dagger wouldn’t do her much good against powerful magic. 

When no such blast came, Illusen cracked open her eyes to see Jhudora still staring at her, one eyebrow quirked upwards in bemusement. 

“This is a tree branch.” Jhudora said and Illusen relaxed her stance. She couldn’t stop the wave of embarrassment from crashing into her and dusting her cheeks with a faint pink.

“It’s not enchanted. It’s only purpose is to help me get around.” A careful inspection proved that Jhudora wasn’t lying; there were no runic carvings or alchemical symbols engraved into the body of the stick. 

“Oh.” It was all Illusen could muster. The confrontation with Jhudora had drained her of any witty comeback or sharp retort. Jhudora’s lips curled into a deeper frown.

“Why are you here?” Her eyes never left Illusen’s, but they didn’t sport the same weary undertone they had moments ago. At the same time, the implication of Jhudora’s question rang and tumbled around in her skull. One hundred and twenty years ago, it had been Illusen who doused the bridge in gasoline and struck the match. 

She would’ve been lying if she’d said that she wanted to see her. No, Illusen had no desire of reestablishing a friendship, however weak and paltry it may be, with Jhudora. The force that brought her back to Faerieland was purely external. There was not, and will never be, an internal force strong enough to incentivise her into visiting Jhudora again. Her wings set her firmly on the cold, stone ground. There was nothing for her here, yet her feet refused to spin her around and march her back to Meridell. Perhaps it was the absence of sun in the sky, the darkness of the clouds rolling overhead. Maybe it was the quick sight of Jhudora’s exposed wrist that gave her mental pause and turned her feet into cinder blocks. 

Jhudora’s wrist was thin and boney. Her entire body was dwarfed by the large cloak slung across her shoulders. Illusen didn’t have to cross over and touch her to know that her hand could completely engulf Jhudora’s wrist and then some. If her wrist was in such poor shape, what of the rest of her body? 

“I wanted to meet with Queen Fyora.” Illusen muttered. She managed to tear her eyes away from Jhudora’s exposed skin and halt her mental observation before she took offence and fried her backside. Jhudora merely raised a thin eyebrow at the mention of the Queen’s name. Illusen expected a mocking retort or slander against the benevolent Queen. She got none. 

“You’d be lucky to get her.” Jhudora said and leaned on her walking stick. “She sequestered herself atop the Hidden Tower for god knows what reason.” She took a few steps away from Illusen, walking back to her table. Their “conversation” was over. 

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to meet with you.” Jhudora looked up, an indiscernible expression on her face. “You were always her favourite ward.” Illusen pursed her lips at the sheer jealousy emanating from Jhudora’s tone. Jhudora stared back at her, expression blank, simply waiting for their reunion to end so that she may tend to her own devices. 

Illusen granted her desire and flew out of the cold cave and into the night sky. 

*

Faerie City had a busy nightlife. Families were out and about and the shiny pathways reflected the bright light emitting from every building, encompassing Faerieland with a dim glow visible from space. Fyora’s castle was made out of dazzling marble and mosaic windows. It towered high above Faerie City’s business district and presented itself as an imposing force. 

Illusen glided up the empty stairs, past the heavy quartz gate and finally did she see the grand castle she had sworn to serve and protect over a century ago. The guards let her in without a second thought. Despite her long absence, she still recognized the faces of the servants, the guards, and the court scholar. 

Trust was easily given in Faerieland. No one attempted to stop her as she ascended yet another flight of stairs to the throne room. As she neared, Illusen heard the low murmurs of conversation on the other side of the heavy doors. She knocked twice and was immediately greeted with a spear to her face and the sight of an empty throne. 

“Aethia.” Illusen breathed out. The tip of Aethia’s spear was positioned dangerously close to her jugular. With a shaking hand and tired smile, Aethia let her spear fall away from Illusen’s neck and the two embraced in a warm hug. 

“It’s been some time.” Aethia murmured, holding Illusen close and nearly crushing her ribs. “We were all convinced you had left for good.” They separated and Aethia sheathed her spear, leading Illusen deeper into the empty room. 

“That was my plan.” Illusen said, glancing around the room. There were no servants, no advisors, no scholars. Aethia was alone and Fyora was nowhere to be found. “I’m afraid I’m not here to rejoin the Queen’s court.” 

“Oh? Then what brings you so far from Meridell?” Illusen chewed her lip. A nightmare brought me, she envisioned herself saying. While Aethia was kind and understanding, such a childish reason would result in ridicule and laughter. 

“I need to speak with Queen Fyora. It’s urgent.” As if called upon by a wanton spell, her discovery of the small, mangled body and spilled innards bloomed in her mind. Last night’s dream also took root and planted itself firmly in her thoughts. 

“Is something the matter, Illusen?” 

“Aethia, please--” Aethia’s concerns were cut short as she clamped her mouth shut and got onto one knee, kneeling deeply before Illusen. 

A warm hand rested itself on Illusen’s shoulder. She spun around, already knowing who stood behind her from the calm yet powerful aura radiating around her. Queen Fyora smiled and silently beckoned her into her private study, as she had many times in the past. One shared glance between the Queen and Aethia sent her scrambling to make herself scarce after another deep, respectful bow. 

“Illusen.” Queen Fyora smiled and placed both her hands on her shoulders. It seemed as if it was just yesterday that the Queen had personally called upon her to join the royal court. Their embrace was quick-- Illusen knew that Queen Fyora thought it best to keep most civilians at a respectable distance-- but it seemed timeless. 

“You seemed quite distraught when you entered my kingdom. Is something wrong?” Where would she even begin? The nightmares were gruesome yet convoluted, but the sight in the dark forest was traumatizing. To see such a poor and innocent creature laying there, deboned and butterflied open, was nauseating. 

“I wouldn’t have come it if weren’t urgent. My Queen, I fear someone, or something, has been preying on innocent Neopians.” Queen Fyora waved her hand and Illusen understood to drop all honorifics. 

“Within Faerieland?” Illusen shook her head. 

“Meridell. I thought that my Glade was capable of serving as a place of sanctuary, but after witnessing…” She felt the all too familiar sensation of bile creeping up the back of her throat and burning her sinuses. “I began to doubt the safety of my own home and my capabilities of offering safety to others.” 

Fyora tightly gripped her glass scepter and worried it in her hands. Her brow was creased and her lips were tightly pressed together. Illusen took a deep breath. 

“There is a large, expansive forest behind my Glade. To my knowledge, it’s uninhabited. I’ve never seen a Faerie nor a Neopian. No berries, fruits, or flowers grow within that section of land; the most I’ve seen are a few weeds, but nothing vibrant.” She sighed and straightened her back.

“I ventured into the dark forest when I smelled something acrid. It was a mix of sulfur, rotten food, and decay. I thought the smell was coming from a dead and decomposing cedar tree, as it was overrun by maggots and beetle larvae, but the smell just got stronger the deeper I went.” 

Fyora released a small breath, eyes steady. “And what did you find?” She asked gently, not missing the reddening of Illusen’s eyes or the multiple blinks in a desperate effort to conceal her tears.

“A dead baby Acara,” Illusen croaked, her voice hoarse with grief. “Split open down the middle and completely disemboweled. No bones, no eyes, just muscle and skin.” She sucked in a shuddering breath, wiping rolling tears off her cheeks before they could splash onto the palace floor. “Sticky muscle, ligaments, and skin dyed red with blood.” 

Fyora looked many shades paler. Illusen’s grief was infectious and she felt immense pain and sorrow for the poor, innocent creature defiled even in death by an unknown assailant. What would a creature need with bones and eyes? 

“Oh, Illusen…” Fyora stood and wrapped Illusen in her arms, letting her softly cry into her shoulder. Despite her stoic expression, Fyora’s stomach tossed and her heart pounded with fear. 

“I’ve been having these horrible nightmares.” Illusen mumbled, gently disentangling herself from Fyora’s embrace. “It’s only been a few days since I saw it, but every night I’m taken back into the dark forest to relieve what I experienced. I’ll sit on the rotten stump and feel the maggots and bugs crawling underneath me while tearing open the carcass with my teeth and pouring the fluids into my mouth and down my throat and--” Fyora caught Illusen’s trembling hands and gently lowered them to her sides. 

With a careful brush, she wiped away the streaming tears that fell from Illusen’s eyes. Once she had calmed down enough to take deep breaths, Fyora embraced her once more, stroking her hair to alleviate her mental anguish. 

“I don’t want to go back tonight, Fyora.” Illusen shamefully admitted. Fyora shook her head. 

“Then you don’t have to. You’re welcome to stay here for the night, or as long as you need to. Tomorrow morning, there’s someone I want to take you to see. I think she’ll be able to help figure out what’s causing this tragedy. For now, however, you should rest.” Fyora gently led Illusen out of her private study, shooing away inquisitive maids with a brief flick of her hand, and into a private room adjacent to the throne room. 

Illusen blinked the remaining tears out of her eyes and brushed away the channels that gathered on her cheeks. She was back in her old room and it looked the same as she’d left it one hundred and thirty years ago. Fyora smiled and gave her a soft push, urging her to explore and refamiliarize herself with her surroundings. 

The bookshelf held all the fictional books and instructional tomes she had planned on reading but never got around to. There were a few pictures, their frames faced down and gathering dust. Illusen didn’t bother to turn them upright; she didn’t need a shock of nostalgia or regret running through her this late at night. Her bed was neatly made, the pillow fluffed and sitting invitingly atop the neatly pressed and fitted covers. While it was a little bland, it was clean and brought back happy memories. 

“Here.” Illusen jumped as Fyora stepped through the door and handed her a cup of rich liquid. It smelled divine. 

“I had Ophelia fetch you a nightcap while you were exploring.” She smiled. “I hope I didn’t startle you too much.” 

Illusen took another whiff of the liquid. It smelled like rich cocoa, smooth, expensive vanilla, and a multitude of warm spices that she couldn’t quite name. Tentatively, she took a small sip and a feeling of drowsiness washed over her. 

“Slowly, Illusen, not all at once.” She heard Fyora say from all around the room. “Why don’t you take a bath first to help your frazzled nerves?” 

Still disoriented, Illusen set the cup down on the drawer and meandered into the bathroom. A clean bath towel, a washrag, and an unused toothbrush were waiting for her. Showering did help to clear her mind and relax her body. Between walking with Tati and maintaining stiff posture in Jhudora’s cave, her muscles were thoroughly exhausted. 

With a sigh, Illusen turned off the water and dried herself off. What was she going to do about Jhudora? Ideally, she wouldn’t have to get involved at all; she trusted Fyora to handle Jhudora if she ever got out of hand. Frankly, she’d be downright happy if she never saw Jhudora again. Her life could go back to the way it was, the way it _had been_ for the past one hundred and twenty years. 

It was then that Illusen, slightly shivering, completely nude, and wrapped in a fluffy bath towel, realized that she was, and had been for some time now, irreparably lonely. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	3. The Impossible Will Take a Little While

Illusen perched high in the tree, silently watching the leaves roll in the wind and trip across the dimly lit dirt path. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and her ears twitched most violently when the distinct sound of laughter and mumbled conversation drifted down the dark road. She extended her legs and dropped quietly onto the ground, her body hidden by dense bushes.

Leaves made a nest out of her hair and small twigs poked and prodded her every which way, but all previous nuisances melted away as she spotted a trio of colourful creatures ambling naively down the path. The blue one and the purple one were larger than the red one that they adamantly kept huddled in the middle. The red one was tiny, dwarfed by its protective parents who made the unwise decision to meander away from civilization on the night of a glowing, yellow moon.

How delicious the small, red morsel would be. Illusen could barely wait to feel its stomach burst with fluid as she ripped it open with her teeth, savouring the tangy and sour flavour of the flesh before diving in and excavating its heart. It would beat pathetically in her hands and pump blood into her palm and drip on her wrist and she would lick up every last drop of red and pop the tiny heart into her mouth like candy. It would be squishy, chewy, and overwhelmingly salty. The eyes, too, would be full of fluid, but it never had any taste unless the small thing was lucky enough to squeeze out a few tears of despair.

Her stomach would be full. The bones, she desperately needed; an intangible form of fire and hatred and fear just wasn’t effective enough to satisfy her sadistic desires. Any bones would work, even the ones of the old and stringy parents, but the child posed a more exhilarating hunt.

Illusen went still as the family of quadrupeds passed her. The child’s tendrils weren’t as long as its parents. It had a penchant for curiosity. Illusen kicked the tree with her foot. It rustled and relinquished a few dead leaves and a meagre handful of acorns. Instantly, the parents stilled and huddled tighter around their precious child.

Illusen smiled, watching them go with an anxious gait. She crept out from behind the bushes and slinked behind a tree on the opposite side of the road. If she had to follow them home, so be it. The anticipation of an imminent meal and the reconstruction of her body would be more than worth the wait.

She stalked them from high in the trees, watching their every move and biding her time until the little child lagged behind or rushed forward out of curiosity. A breeze rustled past, disturbing the trees and sending the sweet scent of innocence barrelling towards Illusen’s face. She smiled; the child had begun to whine.

What a squeaky and annoying voice it had. She took great pleasure in tossing an infested acorn just in front of their path, shocking the parents into abrupt silence and sending the curious child bumbling after it. The acorn bounced and rolled and the child chased it with glee until they both came to a rest at the base of a tree. It parents didn’t hesitate to chase after their beloved child. Illusen savoured their expression of agony and heartbreaking disbelief as she leapt out of a tree and sank her teeth into the child’s warm and writhing neck.

It didn’t scream as Illusen ripped open its chest and bit out its liver or tore into its stomach. It was frozen from the moment she got to it, staring blankly at its horrified parents as she reached into its body cavity and pulled out miles and miles of stretchy intestine, snapping it with her teeth and dirtying her face and hands with blood.

She looked up from her rabid feasting and stared deep into the tearful eyes of the poor child’s parents. They stared back, eyes full of hatred and intense sorrow, and Illusen spat out a glob of their child’s blood at their feet. They would’ve died if they tried to retrieve their child’s mangled corpse. Instead, they ran. Illusen watched them run between large bites of organ, their colourful hides disappearing rapidly into the dark environment before them. She was scarcely the only predator; if the labyrinth of trees and shrubbery didn’t cause their demise, then something else will.

She dragged her prize to the centre of the road, ignoring the blood that dripped from the carcass and splattered onto the ground. The protruding bones were lined with muscle and veins; she’d have to clean it before it could be put to use.

The larger bones were easier to dig out. One by one, every bone in the little child’s body joined the ever-growing pile until all that was left were the ribs and the skull. The ribs were easier. All she had to do was separate each of the ribs from the centrepiece and yank out the spine. The flesh would tear, but she had no use for the remains. The idea of eating the skin wasn’t very appetizing.

The skull was another matter. She could wait for the skin to turn to leather and the nose to decay and for the eyes to dry up and crumble into dust, but that would take an eternity. She didn’t have an eternity. The eyes went first, easily plucked out by sharp talons. The nose was left alone, as were the ears, and all that was left to do was make a long, vertical cut on the head of the head and peel away the scalp to harvest the skull.

Her ears twitched again and picked up the faint sound of approaching footsteps. There was only a single pair this time and much heavier than any quadrupedal Neopet. If she was going to escape unscathed, she would have to leave the skull behind. As weak as she was in her current state, Illusen couldn’t afford to take any chances. She gathered the bones and the pair of wet eyes and dove into the safety of the shrubbery just as footsteps grew louder and foreign breathing grew frantic.

A pesky faerie gawked in horror at the marvellous sight in front of her. Her leafy wings shook as her whole body trembled. Illusen could barely snuffle her bark of laughter when the faerie bent over and heaved and heaved, desperate for something to come out and spill onto the grass. She cried openly and passionately for the life of a creature she never met and would never know.

When the vomit did come, it came in jets of acrid smelling liquid. Illusen poked her head out of the bushes and watched the faerie empty her stomach onto the dark grass. It was gloriously sickening how chunks of undigested food spilt from the faerie’s mouth. The hot tears that dripped from her eyes only brought joy into Illusen’s heart. The faerie ran back the way she came, just like the pair of colourful quadrupeds that came before her, and the flora bent possessively around her, coercing her to stay and enjoy what the forest had to offer.

With the intrusive faerie gone, Illusen turned her attention back to her desecrated prize. If she was lucky, none of the faerie’s selfless tears dripped onto the carcass. She’d hate for it to be spoiled and useless. With a quick jerk of her wrist, the skull released from the flesh with a sickening tear and left her with a flag of useless skin and an entire set of bones, ready to be dried and used.

She left the remainder of the red child strewn on the ground. The scavengers would come get it. If not, then it would distract the bigger monsters for enough time to let her escape. Few things in the dark forest bothered with an embodiment of hatred and fear, but there was always a bigger fish.

*

When Illusen managed to tear herself out of her unconscious, her eyes were sore with fitful sleep and the silky blankets that she had meticulously pulled up to her elbows were now wrung around her neck and mouth. Her mouth was dry and tasted of sharp copper. Her mind raced with a recollection of the horrendous memories she was subjected to.

She scrambled out of bed and into the bathroom. She didn’t dare turn on the lights as she rinsed her mouth, fearing the inevasible sight of bloody water and mushy guts that clogged the sink. The water ran clear despite her trials of fitful rinsing and her tongue, though she desperately tried to keep it from roaming, never brushed against any bits of flesh. Her hands were clean, her face unmarred, and her skin was coated in a thin sheen of sweat.

She leaned her forehead against the bathroom mirror, taking solace in the cool respite of the glass exterior. Her most recent dream, if it was even a dream, was by far the most graphic. It had been her hands doing the killing, her teeth that she sank into the poor body, and her reflection that she spotted in the reflective sheen of the dead Acara’s eyes before she gouged them out. Yet here she was safe and spotless in Faerieland, hundreds of miles away from her Meridell home.

The outside sky was still dark and an oafish bang of her knee against the wooden nightstand rattled her empty cup. She’d drank it all without a second thought after she showered. Fyora wanted to see her once more bright and early. The cup, filled with rich liquid and promises of heavy sleep, was enough to deter the nightmares for a while.

Illusen couldn’t fathom going back to sleep. Though the sun was hours away from rising, the idea of encountering more nightmares was too much. Her body was rested, but she felt the low ache in her sinuses that always bloomed before her eyes began to well up with tears. The ache resided, but the tears never came.

The books on the shelf helped prevent her mind from straying to unsavoury areas. Though nonfiction was never her preferred genre of choice, it kept her occupied until a tentative knock on her bedroom door jostled her out of her reverie. A servant stepped in to collect the used cup.

“Queen Fyora is ready to speak with you.” She said and left the room before Illusen could open her mouth.

Fyora was waiting for her in the throne room. Her eyes were encircled by a dark ring of exhaustion and the whites of her eyes were tinged pink. Illusen fared no better, having been jostled from an otherwise restful sleep by dark memories.

They spared no time with pleasantries. Fyora donned her cloak and shrank down her glass scepter until it was the size of a ruler and easily hidden away in her attire. They left the palace and descended into the early night. The birds weren’t yet awake and the entirety of Faerieland was blissfully asleep.

Fyora emitted a faint aura of light that guided Illusen away from any cracks in the cobblestone path, jutting rocks, or protruding roots. Faerie City was a faint glow behind them. The night was quiet save for their quick footsteps and the occasional buzzing of insects.

Illusen stopped when Fyora withdrew her scepter from the confines of her attire and broke the temporary shrinking spell. It grew until it was back to its normal, imposing size. Fyora brought the butt of the scepter down on the ground once, lighting up the crystal bulb with a comforting, pale light.

Illusen instantly recognized the visage of the crumbling, dark castle before her. Her blood ran cold and she shot a bemused glance at Fyora. Her face was passive. A cold wind blew towards them, ruffling their hair, their wings, and nearly blowing Fyora’s cloak off her shoulders. Illusen didn’t voice her concerns even as they began their ascent into Jhudora’s domain. Her heart was as heavy as lead and as cold as ice.

The fire wasn’t lit and the cauldron that rolled and bubbled with an indiscernible concoction was stagnant and empty. Fyora glanced around the mouth of the cave with interest and brought the butt of her staff down twice onto the cave ground.

Jhudora was strewn messily across her worktable. Open books and various cultivated plants and fungi littered the exposed surface around her sleeping body. Illusen clenched and unclenched her hands as she watched the slow rise and fall of Jhudora’s back. Illusen’s arms erupted with goosebumps. It was awfully cold.

Fyora cleared her throat, the sound reverberating through the quiet cave. Jhudora stirred and nearly knocked over an open-faced book in her drowsy state. She lifted her head and straightened her back. The cracking and popping of bones were loud enough to sicken Illusen to her stomach.

“Jhudora.” Fyora said and Jhudora stiffed, turning to face them with a look of thinly veiled disdain. The bags under her eyes were dark and prominent and her face was paler than Illusen remembered. It had only been a few hours since she last saw her, but Jhudora’s face lacked its usual lilac hue and was paler than the moon.

“What.” She answered. Illusen swallowed as Fyora stepped into the cave, leaving her behind to awkwardly linger at the mouth of the cave. Jhudora hadn’t paid her any mind since her rude awakening.

“A word, please.” Without waiting for Jhudora’s verbal assent, Fyora gestured for her to rise and follow her into the back of the cave, away from open ears and curious eyes. Jhudora growled and begrudgingly rose from her seat.

Illusen hovered near the entrance. The cowardly part of her wanted to eavesdrop on their conversation. Any business that Fyora had with Jhudora was strictly their own, but since Fyora had brought her here… wasn’t she also privy to that knowledge? No, that was simply presumptuous.

From the depths of the cave, Jhudora’s voice rose in octaves. Their conversation was distorted by echoes, but the pitch and reverberation told Illusen that Jhudora was utterly vexed. Fyora’s firm tone was that of a mother disciplining a disobedient child.

They came out a few minutes later. Illusen uncrossed her legs and stood up. Jhudora was dressed in her dark cloak with her hood pulled over her eyes. Unconsciously, Illusen snuck a look at her wrists; they were as skeletal and pale as she remembered.

“Illusen, forgive me for this, but I have a favour to ask of you.” Fyora stood before her and her aura shimmered brighter than the moonlight. Illusen felt the hair on the nape of her neck stand up. She released a small breath.

“It’s with a heavy heart that I beseech you to return to Meridell and traverse into the dark forest.” Illusen paled considerably. Her head felt dizzy and light. Fyora placed a warm, comforting had on her shoulder to steady her.

“I understand that this task may cause you grief and for that, I’m sincerely sorry, but this creature may be a threat to us all.” She squeezed her shoulder and took out an intricate shield and attached it to Illusen’s arm.

“I thought you’d be more comfortable if you had this.” The weight on her arm was reassuring and the shield shimmered as if it reflected sunlight. Jhudora spared a glance at the enchanted shield attached to Illusen’s arm and lazily let her glare wander back to Fyora.

When confronted, Fyora set her mouth in a thin line and gave an indiscernible nod of her head. Illusen fingered the wooden dagger still sheathed on her belt. She wasn’t as protected as she would’ve liked, but her current armament was better than nothing.

“Jhudora will accompany you.” Illusen’s eyes snapped wide open and her throat barely managed to supress back a disapproving squawk. Instead, an undignified choke barreled its way out of her throat and sent her tumbling to the ground in a series of hacking coughs.

“I understand your… distrust of one another, but it would behoove you to set aside your differences to subdue this creature. I fear the worst if it slips through our fingers.” Illusen gritted her teeth and held her tongue. Although she couldn’t see it, she could picture Jhudora’s eyes flashing with barely concealed hatred and the mocking quirk of her brow.

“Understood.” Illusen spat out. Jhudora calmly walked over to the worktable and grabbed her walking stick, as well as a tattered, black tome with an arcane symbol inscribed into its cover. Fyora raised a perfectly manicured brow but did not comment.

“When you capture the creature, bring it back to my court alive. If possible, my scholars and I would like to communicate with it and weasel out any information we can.” From the corner of her eye, Illusen saw Jhudora stiffen. Her bat-like wings pressed tightly against her back.

Fyora’s scepter glowed with a bright light. “I’ll send you to Meridell. Illusen, I expect you to lead Jhudora into the forest. Jhudora…” She pressed her lips into a tight frown and sighed. “Be safe, both of you.” The scepter flashed once, twice, and then Faerieland was no more, having been replaced with the luscious green trees and rural environment of Meridell.

Illusen was home. She breathed in the familiar smell of the foliage, the fallen leaves, the smell of mud and dirt with the slightest inkling of the stench from the rubbish dump. The familiar sensation was so relaxing that her wings unfurled themselves and fluttered rapidly, sending Illusen into a brief spell of flight.

Jhudora pulled her cloak tighter around herself, gripping her tome and branch with urgency. The shadow eclipsing Jhudora’s unnatural pallid face made her seem all the more untrustworthy.

“This way.” Illusen said. They were only a short distance from her Glade, yet the idea of leading her nemesis into her place of sanctuary felt strange. Her home was a safe-haven for all Neopians, regardless of their background. Logic warned her to make an exception for Jhudora. Emotion insisted that that would make her a hypocrite.

Her Glade was dead silent. The crickets that typically lulled her to sleep with their rhythmic chirping were hesitant to sing. The fireflies that buzzed and lit up the night sky with their colourful tails were gone. In the dark of night, her Glade and the surrounding forests looked intimidating.

Jhudora coughed quietly and thumbed through her tome. The turning of parchment pages spun Illusen around with urgency, carved dagger drawn and brandished. Jhudora spared her a look and roughly pushed the wooden weapon out of her face. Illusen’s cheeks coated with hot shame.

Jhudora mumbled a few incantations under her breath in a foreign language and threw her hand into the air. A small bulb of light erupted from her open palm and floated above their heads, illuminating their paths with a comforting radius of light.

“It won’t last forever.” Jhudora said. Her voice was fainter and raspier than usual. “Let’s just hurry. I’d rather not be out here all morning.” Illusen spared her a cursory nod and led her into the forest behind her Glade, taking great care to circumvent her woodland home entirely. She allowed herself a few ounces of sadistic joy when Jhudora stumbled or tripped over the uneven ground that she merely floated over.

It wasn’t long before they stood at the entrance to the dark forest. Jhudora’s floating candlelight glowed brightly and undeterred. Illusen stopped and listened for the sound of footsteps crawling, scampering or stalking around. She heard nothing except the sound of Jhudora’s laboured breathing and the way her fingers creaked as she adjusted her grip on her staff.

“Do you have a cold?” Illusen asked, unable to help herself.

“No.” Jhudora walked forward, brushing past Illusen as she did so. Illusen couldn’t suppress the cold shiver that went up her spine.

“How can you see with your cowl pulled over your eyes?” A one-sided conversation was better than stifling silence.

“Channel your nervousness into an outlet other than asking inane questions.” The candlelight bobbed in the air above Jhudora’s head. Illusen noticed that Jhudora’s wings were firmly tucked against her back, almost as if they were clipped together and blasted with a paralysis spell.

Illusen hovered as close to Jhudora as she could stomach while still being in the radius of the light. They had about five feet of space between them. Jhudora’s walking stick emitted loud echoes whenever it struck the dirt path.

Illusen violently recoiled from the smell of death and decay that surrounded them like a blanket. Over the last few weeks, she had become all too familiar with the sickening aroma. Jhudora, too, doubled over and held a hand to her nose and mouth in desperation. They were getting close. First would be the tree, and then the desecration.

“Gods above--!” Jhudora yanked her cowl off her head and wrapped the hood around her nose. Illusen wished she could do the same, but her attire was skin tight and practical to avoid any untangling accidents. Her eyes watered and she blinked away tears.

“We have to move forward.” She said between gritted teeth. The longer they stayed in the acrid cloud of decay, the more enticing the thoughts of turning around would become. With a deep breath and strong resolve, Illusen grabbed ahold of Jhudora’s hand and yanked her down the dirt path and into the heart of the forest.

Jhudora’s skin felt colder than ice. It surpassed the summit of Terror Mountain and was colder than anything Taelia could create. Even the harshest Meridell winter felt like a sunny day in comparison to what she held in her grip.

She nearly loosened her grip in surprise. Jhudora sported an intense expression of discomfort. Illusen remembered that her own hand was warm; like any normal Earth faerie, her body temperature was just a few degrees shy of ninety-eight.

When they reached the heart, Illusen promptly dropped Jhudora’s hand. The suffocating smell was less intense than before but still prominent. Jhudora’s body shook as she let out a few wheezing coughs. She had no choice but to run when Illusen gripped her hand and dragged her away.

Illusen’s feet silently touched the ground as she observed Jhudora’s huddled form and listened to the dry, gasping coughs that shook her chest and back. The candlelight had gone out during their hasty exit, but Illusen’s borrowed shield emitted a dim light. Jhudora’s coughed subsided and turned into silent, heaving gasps.

When she stood up, Illusen was greeted with the sight of Jhudora’s pallid face covered with a thin sheet of cold sweat. What unsettled her the most were Jhudora’s eyes: they were glassy and covered with a thin, grey layer. Illusen’s mouth tugged into a concerned frown. Jhudora’s eyes were clear and sharp mere hours ago.

“Jhudora,” She started and promptly closed her mouth when Jhudora shot her a burning glare.

“Can you recast the light?” She opted for neutral territory. Jhudora grit her teeth and mumbled the same incantation under her breath and sent her arm into the air. A new orb of candlelight shot out of her palm and illuminated their surroundings.

Illusen caught a glimpse of Jhudora’s wrists under her attire and cloak. They were encased in thick, metal braces that clamped down on her wrists and extended halfway up her arm. Jhudora’s bindings were the least of her concerns. In front of them stood what remained of the great cedar tree. The maggots and the fungi had taken over, turning the stump and the fallen tree trunk into a playground for decay.

Illusen fought back a shudder as she violently recalled the nightmares that involved her sitting on the stump and digging into the bowels and organs of the baby Acara. She was more than eager to leave the tree behind.

Jhudora had taken to leaning most of her body weight on her staff. Illusen could see her face turning paler with every step she took and the beads of cold sweat that dotted her forehead and temple. Jhudora’s weakened and vulnerable state made her feel uncomfortable. Precarious situation aside, there hadn’t been a day in her life where Jhudora had shown any semblance of weakness. She was always so stubborn.

If Illusen were to voice her concerns, she’d be immediately rebuffed by a sharp glare and a snarky comment. There was nothing for her to do but press on. The dirt path beneath their feet winded and narrowed they were met with familiar terrain. Illusen stalled, hovering uncertainty in midair. This had been the exact spot where she had first encountered the massacred corpse.

The candlelight burned strongly and the smell of decay has evaporated into thin air. Jhudora let out a small breath and clutched her staff to her chest. The pathing before them was splashed with brown, dried bloodstains. The body was gone. Jhudora took a few steps forward and knelt beside the bloodstains.

“Tell me about your most recent dream.” She instructed. Illusen cringed and tapped her fingers against her thigh. It was an uncomfortable topic to broach, even more so when Jhudora was intent on studying the bloodstains and the area surrounding it.

“I was here,” She said. “up in the trees, but I wasn’t me. I had my body, but my mind belonged to something else.” Jhudora didn’t look up.

“It hungered for flesh and blood, but most importantly it needed bones.” Illusen let out a shaky breath. “There was a family of Acara that walked down the path from the south entrance as we did. There were three of them: a blue mother, a purple father, and a little red baby.”

“It stalked the baby from the trees and low bushes, waiting for a slight moment of exuberance or hesitation so that it may strike. When no such opportunity came, it lured the baby forward by tossing acorns just in front of its path to goad it.”

Illusen shuddered and cried out in a soft voice. “It jumped out of the bush and snatched the baby in its jaws. The baby was instantly dead and the parents ran before the same misfortune could befall them.” She choked on the tears that were threatening to spill from her eyes.

“It began to dissect it, pulling organs and muscles out of the body and setting the bones in a neat pile just beside it.” Jhudora stood up and studied Illusen with fascination. “It only stopped its heinous actions when I accidentally stumbled upon it that fated day.”

“I didn’t see the creature.” She said when Jhudora’s eyebrow quirked in questioning. “All I saw was the desecrated corpse. There was no one but me, the body, and the smell. I ran away and when my legs began to trip and stumble I flew as fast as I could. The trees and vines betrayed me, tried to ensnare me and keep me as a trophy. I had nightmares for weeks.”

“Which tree were you in?” Jhudora’s eyes followed her arm as she stretched out her limb to point accusingly at the tall, gnarled tree with few leaves and rough bark.

Its long branches were good for a small creature to perch on, but did not offer much coverage. The trunk was long and thick and had no visible grooves or notches for creature larger than an insect to hide. Jhudora furrowed her brow and gingerly traced a deep, curled indentation that dragged from a low branch down to the middle of the trunk.

The glowing orb flickered out and bathed them in darkness. Illusen let out a small gasp and instinctively raised her shield. What little light the shield gave off couldn’t offset the immense terror creeping up her spine. Her eyes darted around, desperately seeking out any moving shapes in the darkness. Jhudora was beside her, still and silent, and the trees loomed over them and grew with each passing second.

There was a snap of a tree branch and Illusen drew her dagger. She saw the trembling of her hand and nothing beyond that. She felt a cold presence beside her and heard the shuffling of heavy footsteps.

“Jhudora.” She mumbled, embarrassed at how desperate her voice had grown. “The light. Please.”

The light didn’t come. Illusen could barely make out the dark form of Jhudora beside her, silent and painfully still. The cold felt like fire against her skin. She blinked hard to free the tears that welled up and clouded her eyes and prayed that whatever stood in front of her would trip and blunder and give her enough time to run. Her wooden dagger felt like a child’s toy. The light never came.

The trees shook and a breeze picked up, delivering the fetid stench of rot and carrion. Even as the odour permeated and engulfed them, Illusen did not move. Her muscles refused to obey her futile commands and the tears that she had roughly blinked out of her eyes a few seconds ago flooded her cheeks and stained the dirt below her.

The acrid odour burned her nose and stung her eyes. The dark form had a pair of malevolent, glowing red eyes that bore into Illusen’s own and tore through her soul. Its body was an amalgamated vessel, non-symmetrical and full of grotesque lumps. It opened its maw and emitted a whispery growl.

Illusen saw teeth. White, shiny, and sharp rows of teeth that lined the inside of its maw and traveled too far up into its cheeks. It took a step forward and a hiss snaked out from between its teeth. Illusen heard thick liquid drip onto the ground.

She held her wooden knife protectively in front of her, her knuckles slowly turning white as her entire arm shook with strain. She felt trapped in the creature’s sinister gaze; it was as if someone had enclosed their hands around her neck and slowly squeezed the air out of her body.

The glowing shield didn’t deter it; it wasn’t afraid of the light anymore. Illusen’s body tensed in anticipation as the dark form in front of her crouched, coiled up as tightly as a spring, She could see individual bits of its body shift into place as it sprang up and soared through the air. The heavy splatter of liquid was loud on the forest ground.

Illusen opened her eyes and ducked out from behind her raised shield when she heard a high pitched gurgle of pain. The forest was lit up in a wash of bright light exuded by the glowing candlelight. She diverted her attention from the invaluable charm and snapped her eyes forward.

The creature was restrained by numerous heavy, purple chains that wrapped around its body and bound its limbs. Jhudora’s pale cheeks bloomed with strain as she held her hands out and controlled the steady stream of magic that enfeebled the monster.

Illusen shuddered and felt faint as she remembered the high arc the creature had jumped to get to her. Its body was big, heavy, and bloody. It had no skin to wrap around the twitching ligaments or jumping muscles that visible strained every time it fought against Jhudora’s ensnaring magic. Its feet dug into the dirt as it wreathed and wailed. Blood covered its body like lubricant.

Jhudora’s mouth was screwed tightly into a deep frown as she gradually diminished her channeling. The creature had been immobilized to Jhudora’s content; it wouldn’t be able to move, much less pounce, without straining its chains. Illusen stared down at the creature lying disabled on the forest floor. Her eyes were blank with exhaustion and she couldn’t find it in her heart to feel a shred of pity for the cruel amalgamation.

“We need to destroy its hearth.” Jhudora pulled her hood over her head before Illusen could get another close look at her face.

Illusen nodded. “The decaying tree.” Her forest magic was useless in the realm of destruction. She could make flowers bloom and trees bear fruit, but her touch was worthless when it came to restarting the cycle of life. Her stomach twisted and her lips inadvertently curled into a grimace when it became clear that _Jhudora_ was the key to cleansing this forest of its corruption and bestowing peace onto her Glade.

Illusen sheathed her dagger and avoided looking at the lump of flesh restrained by magical bindings. Jhudora waved her wrist and shackled herself to the creature. When she took a step, the creature was dragged forward an equal amount. It growled as best it could.

The walk back to the deteriorating cedar tree was accompanied by a heavy silence. Illusen stewed in her thoughts as she brushed tree branches out of her way. Jhudora’s magic was violent and destructive. She used it to enchant weapons with unsavoury effects and create potions that poisoned the body and soul. Many a Neopian had come running to her Glade out of desperation when the curse Jhudora cast upon their name turned their life into a realm of misfortune.

When a Wocky with green pustules growing out of its fur or a Kyrii with its mane falling out in clumps begged her to alleviate the curse with a special balm, Illusen felt her heart blacken just a bit more. Jhudora was despicable, but she didn’t use to be that way. They were close one day and enemies the next. Illusen kept her heart guarded, but Jhudora managed to reach in and tug it out with a saccharine smile on her face.

The creature made loud snarls of pain as they neared the heart of the forest. It streaked blood on the forest floor as Jhudora pulled it closer to the labyrinth's centre. The tree, although ridden with decomposition and colonized by various insects and fungi, stood imposingly. The low light of Jhudora’s spell cast harsh shadows behind the tree trunk.

Illusen stood a ways away from the stump, one hand mindlessly massaging her upper arm as she watched Jhudora take out her spellbook and flip to the appropriate page. Her eyebrows shot up in unbridled surprise as a page was deftly ripped from the tome, crumpled, and then lit ablaze in a show of intimidating purple fire.

The parchment crackled and died at the fire consumed it and grew in its intensity. Jhudora tossed the fledgling fire onto the stump and took a step back as the fire roared and turned an unearthly shade of red as it purged every insect, grub, and mushrooms that grew on the dead stump. Illusen’s nails imprinted crescent-shaped marks in her upper arm.

Within seconds of its casting, the fire had consumed every living organism and set unto penetrating the thick stump by slowly eating away at its edges. Illusen watched the fire with fascination. The red flames worked quickly and effectively. The red glow lit up Jhudora’s face beneath her cowl and Illusen saw the fire reflected in her glassy eyes and the unhealthy angularity of her jawline and protruding cheekbones. Illusen bit her lip and forced her eyes back to the fire.

Jhudora’s eyes were the same shade of dark purple as the fire that had erupted from her palm. The sclera surrounding her cornea was an even darker shade of purple if that was possible. Many faeries had a light coloured sclera. Even Delina, one of the few Dark faeries Illusen had the pleasure of conversing with before her self-imposed exile, had a lavender coloured sclera to offset the deep purple of her eyes.

The dead stump was reduced to grey ash as Jhudora’s fire slowed and extinguished. The creature howled in mourning, gnashing its many teeth and squirming in its tight bindings. Jhudora paid the distraught monster no mind.

“How did you know that the decaying tree was its source of power?” Illusen asked as they made their way out of the forest. The environment seemed brighter; the tree branches and roots weren’t trying to trip and suffocate her and the air was clear with the pleasant scent of foliage and dew.

“The tree didn’t supply power; it was the literal heart of the forest. It rotted because the monster killed innocents to reconstruct a tangible form.” Jhudora flicked her eyes up to the rising sun that painted the sky a lovely shade of orange.

They’d spent hours in the forest hunting and subduing the monster. With the threat bound and disabled, it was only a matter of transporting it back to Faerieland to face Fyora’s judgement. Illusen wheezed out a surprised breath when a tome was thrust into her arms. Jhudora leveled her with a sharp glare beneath her cowl.

“Keep it in your cottage and return it to me next week.” Illusen blinked hard and felt her hackles raise.

“Why should I do anything to help you? I don’t know what sort of mischief you’ve caused with this spellbook, or what kind of horror you’ve inflicted on those who refuse to do your bidding.” Jhudora set her mouth into a thin line.

“That spellbook saved your life. Without it, you’d be gored open and spilt across the forest floor.” She scoffed and crossed her arms. “That shield Fyora gave you wouldn’t have done you any good. I’m surprised she even bothered to pull it out of whatever dusty storage she kept it in.”

Illusen felt her eyebrow twitch in annoyance. “How can you be so sure about that? This shield is enchanted with a protective ward.” Jhudora scoffed.

“I can recognize my spellcraft, even though it’s been a few decades.” She made a noise of disgust. “It’s a detection enchantment, not a ward. It lights up whenever a threat is in proximity.” A cold sweat dotted the back of Illusen’s neck as Jhudora stared into her eyes, gaze steely and unwavering.

Deep down she knew Jhudora was right. A flimsy shield the size of a dinner plate would crumple like wet paper once the creature brought down its gigantic paw. She saw how bold the creature became in the darkness; it fed off her fear and built itself up like a mountain. She had been ensnared in place, feet unresponsive and wings paralyzed by fear.

“Why would Fyora have you enchant weaponry?” Illusen chose a lighter subject to broach. The weight of the spellbook in her arms felt less foreign with each passing second. Jhudora used to clutch her books close to her chest; she was always so protective of them. Illusen frowned and loosened her hold on the tome.

Jhudora rolled her eyes. “Her cabinet of alchemists and enchanters are about as talented as a wet Mortog. She only keeps them around for show, and even then their numbers aren’t fooling anyone.”

Illusen chewed her lip. During her time spent in the Queen’s royal court, she had plenty of opportunities to converse and acquaint herself with Fyora’s cabinet of scholars. Some were truly brilliant while others only looked the part. More than once she had been jostled out of her peaceful slumber by a stray explosion in the divination wing.

“Does Fyora not know that you brought your spellbook?” She caught a glimpse of Jhudora’s frown. It pulled sharply at her lip and looked more like a nasty scowl.

“There are many things Fyora doesn’t know. She saw me take the tome when she instructed us to go on this assignment. I have no doubt that she’ll send a party of her scholars to search for and seize any magical artifacts they can find in my cave.”

“Is that why you’re wearing those metal braces?” Illusen gestured towards the thick, metal bindings clasped tightly around Jhudora’s forearms. Jhudora wrapped her cloak tightly around her body and sent a sharp glare Illusen’s way.

“Fyora can be paranoid.” Illusen frowned as Jhudora disregarded her prodding looks and turned away from her, walking down Meridell’s dirt pathing without a backwards glance. The creature was unwittingly dragged along. Jhudora sat down at the base of a tree stump, the bound creature lying pathetically on the ground next to her, and Illusen found she had no choice but to submit to Jhudora’s wishes. It didn’t mean she had to like it.

Her home was as silent as ever. Like her Glade, it was open to any Neopian in their time of need, but the expansive environment of her Glade made it easy to find and gave Illusen a secluded spot to rest and recover from taxing social interaction. The swaying trees projected shadows onto her bedroom floor. She tucked Jhudora’s spellbook away in a wardrobe containing various sets of clothes. Her home was now in possession of a magical artifact used to enact deeds of misfortune.

Jhudora was sitting in the same spot when Illusen returned. In broad daylight, the creature didn’t seem as imposing, but it remained disgusting nonetheless. The sunlight reflected off the white tendons connecting muscle to bone. There was no offensive odour, although Illusen didn’t want to stick around and see how far she could push her luck. If they were going to parade this creature all the way back to Faerieland, she preferred they do it while some Neopians were still soundly asleep.

“Check the inside of your shield.” Illusen blinked in surprise as Jhudora rose from the ground and regarded her with blank attention.

She undid the buckle and flipped the shield around. Embedded in the centre of the shield was a small, glowing green orb. It was roughly the size of her thumb and the inside swirled with foggy, green smoke. Illusen carefully pried the orb out of its confinement and held it up to the sun. The glass was thin, fragile and almost seemed to bend under the force of her fingers. Jhudora made a noise in her throat.

“That’ll take us back to Faerieland. Place the pearl under your foot, envision where you want to go, then crush it.” Illusen stared at the green pearl in wonder. The idea that a small, fragile object could hold such power was astonishing. Jhudora’s lip curled into a disgusted scowl as she watched Illusen inspect the glass ball as if it were the eighth wonder of the world.

“Might I suggest the outskirts of Faerieland?” Jhudora said, her voice tight with impatience. “I’d rather not be seen with you in public, much less tied to this abomination.” Illusen’s brow knit together in frustration.

Whatever patience she had was wearing thin. After all these years, Jhudora knew which buttons to push and which devices were especially effective at getting under her skin. She placed the pearl under her foot and imagined the calm, cobblestone roads leading into Faerie City.

She thought past the busy shop district and merchant stalls that littered the outskirts of Faerieland and focused on a silent meadow and tranquil scenery that sparsely dotted the area behind the chaotic shop district. When she felt the glass crack under her weight and saw the green smoke escape from beneath her foot and blanket them in a thick cloud of fog, her thoughts wandered to the dilapidated orphanage that stood alone and forgotten on the outskirts of Faerieland.


	4. I Could Make You Care, If Only You'd Let Me

When the fog lifted, the creature gave a horrendous bellow and fitfully rebelled against its bindings. Jhudora’s magic held true and the creature exhausted itself within seconds. Illusen found herself facing the worn orphan home. The cracks in the glass window seemed to spiderweb further than they had before. She heard Jhudora’s teeth grate together in annoyance. 

Jhudora didn’t spare the orphanage a glance as she began to walk across the meadow and eclipse the edge of civilization. Illusen had no choice but to follow and keep a close eye on the monster dejectedly lumbering behind. It gave up on being dead weight when Jhudora dragged it through a thorny bush. 

They made a point of avoiding the market district as best they could. Though she didn’t live in Faerieland anymore, her reputation as a kindhearted and just faerie would be tarnished if rumours speculated that she was spending time with Jhudora. She didn’t want to be near her, but Fyora had insisted. Illusen spent the rest of the uncomfortably silent walk staring daggers into Jhudora’s back. 

The raw creature looked grotesquely out of place in Faerieland. The lush, green meadows and immaculate cobblestone paths only emphasized its lack of skin and sinewy form. Illusen saw the high visage of Jhudora’s bluff, its dark and dismal appearance juxtaposed by Faerieland’s bright and auspicious metropolitan city. 

They had barely made it past Marina’s Healing Springs, which was thankfully void of patients, and entered Faerieland’s inner ring when Jhudora was met with several sharp spear tips angled perilously close to her throat. If she were to swallow, the undulating motion of her throat would kiss the tip of the spear and spill blood onto the cobblestone path. 

Illusen’s eyes grew wide at the sudden ambush. She had been on the receiving end of a spear not too long ago, but Aethia wasn’t with this squadron of faeries. Jhudora hardly looked fazed. 

“Security was increased after Faerieland dropped out of the sky. Fyora’s request.” She drolled, tilting her neck back to avoid cutting herself on a speartip. Illusen could only nod in acknowledgement. 

“Miss, you’re travelling with a nefarious criminal. We have no other choice but to escort and present her before the Queen.” The squadron moved as a cohesive unit, pulling back all but one spear. The leader gently touched her weapon against Jhudora’s neck, pressing the tip against the hollow of her throat for a brief moment before sweeping the spear upwards in a wide arc and knocking Jhudora’s cowl off her head. 

Illusen let out a small, unwitting gasp of surprise as the morning sunlight illuminated Jhudora’s unnaturally pallid complexion and drew her attention to the pair of dark circles surrounding her eyes. Her eyes were sunken with weariness and slightly teary from strain. Her cheekbones jutted against her skin and made her face appear narrower. Her lips faded to a light purple, darker than the rest of her face but all the more jarring without its usual coating of bright green lipstick. 

Jhudora looked horrible, as if she hadn’t slept in months. Illusen found that she couldn’t help but feel sympathy for Jhudora’s current state. It would’ve been in her best interest to feel overjoyed that Jhudora, her lifelong sworn nemesis, looked more miserable than ever before, but that selfish feeling was nowhere to be found. Instead, she gazed upon Jhudora’s battered countenance and felt melancholic. 

She would never accept her sympathy or her feelings of melancholy. Jhudora scorned pity more than anything in the world. Even as a child, she was always quick to anger whenever someone looked upon her situation with sad eyes and an aching heart. Illusen kept her emotions to herself. 

“The Queen sent us.” Jhudora said and made a swift gesture to the creature shackled lamely to her wrist. One of their assailants made a loud noise of disgust and recoiled back from her curious stance. 

“We were given direct orders to venture into Meridell and capture the creature spreading death and fear unto innocent Neopians.” Illusen found her voice and lifted the shield still attached to her forearm. The leader of the unit gave her shield a hard glance and grunted in submission. 

“Very well.” She flicked her wrist and a petite light faerie raised her arms and covered them with a light shower of mist. Illusen blinked at the sudden wetness in the air. Jhudora grunted and used the brief lapse in observation to flip her cowl back over her head. 

“Come.” The leader withdrew her spear while the other members of her squadron drew theirs and pointed the sharp tips towards Jhudora’s back. “We will escort you to Her Majesty.” 

Illusen matched the leader’s wide stride. Jhudora quickly fell behind, having to lean on her staff for support. When she stumbled or gripped her staff for support, the faerie warriors would carefully prod her back with the blunt end of their spears as “incentive” to get up and move faster. Illusen bit her tongue to keep quiet when one warrior mustered up the gall to drive the butt of her weapon between Jhudora’s shoulder blades. 

Jhudora’s complaint came in the form of hacking wet coughs and desperate, gravelly intakes of breath. When she brought up a hand to cup her mouth, Illusen saw the shiny, metal cuff glisten in the sunlight. The leader paid the disturbance no mind and continued to walk them through the streets of Faerie City, taking great care not to bump into a wandering pedestrian.

The creature’s mass had decreased significantly. What was once a hulking mass of dripping muscle and bone was now shrivelled and tiny and dry. It was still a difficult sight to look at, but there was comfort in the thought that the creature’s ability to harm was severely hindered in daylight. 

What remained of the creature’s body reminded Illusen of Jhudora’s gaunt form. Of course, Jhudora was much easier to look at than the bloody monstrosity-- anything was-- but the similarities in their body shape were too blatant to be ignored. 

A stray flash of purple drew Illusen out of her thoughts. Jhudora’s hood had been knocked back, exposing her head and neck for the sun to burn and scar, and Illusen saw the firm clench of her jaw, how rigid her balled fists had become and how rapidly her hand was inundated with purple fire. 

Without thinking, she rested a hand on Jhudora’s unlit fist and watched as the purple fire dissipated almost immediately. Her skin was still freezing to the touch. The light faerie lowered her arms and removed the barrier separating them from the outside world. The leader had all but deposited them in the middle of Fyora’s throne room. Jhudora yanked her hand away with a quiet growl. 

The Queen’s guards snapped to attention and surrounded Jhudora in a show of unnecessary strength. Illusen knew in her heart that if Jhudora was properly angered, the guards would be disarmed and blasted across Faerieland faster than they could blink. Fyora sat upon her throne looking serene and unflappable given the group of marauders that materialised before her. 

Fyora waved a hand and her guards withdrew their weapons, bowed deeply and resumed their positions as silent, decorative guardians. She gave Illusen a wide smile that quickly morphed into an expression of horror upon viewing the creature chained to Jhudora’s wrist. 

“By the Gods..” Fyora breathed out, raising her hand to cover her mouth. “Aethia, send everyone out.” She rose from her throne as Aethia escorted the guards, servants, and the squadron of marauders out of the room, blanching as she saw another glimpse of the creature. 

Illusen stood stiffly by Jhudora’s side as a whirlwind of activity erupted around her. The servants lost their poise and screeched upon seeing Jhudora and the monstrosity attached to her arm. The guards silently took their leave while the squadron complained loudly that their efforts had gone unappreciated. 

When the room was clear and silent, Fyora let out a deep sigh and descended from her throne. Aethia was by her side in an instant. Illusen had great difficulty looking Fyora or Aethia in the eye, so she kept her gaze to the ground and her tongue firmly between her teeth. She felt Fyora’s warm hand slide under her chin and lift her gaze from the floor to stare into her own. 

“Are you both all right?” She asked, removing her hand from Illusen’s face. Jhudora remained silent, leaning her head and her weight against her staff. Illusen managed a faint nod. 

“Yes.” She said. Numbly, she unbuckled the shield from her forearm and handed it back to Fyora. 

“That’s all I could ask.” Fyora’s gaze slide over Illusen and locked onto Jhudora. Her eyes were shut tightly and her body shook with raw exertion. Fyora’s mouth parted into a small slit before clamping shut. 

“Aethia, have Nessa and Dalia ready a quarantine for this… being. Jhudora, are you able to break the binding?” Jhudora’s eyes remained tightly shut until Aethia left the room and the twin doors softly slid shut. 

When total silence was achieved, Jhudora violently lashed out her arm to the side and the chain buckled around her wrist snapped straight and shook with tension. The creature remained dormant as Jhudora gave a final lash of her arm and separated the magical link. The purple chain shattered and disseminated into thin air with few theatrics. 

Illusen saw the faint rise and fall of what she could only assume was the creature’s chest. If it could breathe, that meant it harvested a pair of functioning lungs. She swallowed the bile creeping up her throat and focused her attention on Fyora, who knit her eyebrows together when Jhudora leaned her weight on her staff, swaying a little on her feet. 

Neither Fyora nor Illusen was prepared for the light suddenly leaving Jhudora’s eyes and her body crumpling onto the pristine marble floor. Illusen’s mouth was agape in surprise while Fyora remained stiff with shock. She jerked her limbs into motion and flew to Jhudora’s side, propping her head onto her lap and resting a careful hand over her heart. 

Illusen’s mind went into overdrive. Jhudora, her most hated nemesis, fainted. She saw how exhausted her body was; the shifty eyes, her pale skin that shimmered with a light layer of sweat, and who knows how those metal cuffs affected her. Fyora was a nervous wreck, anxiously pushing Jhudora’s hair out of her eyes and fanning her face. Her collarbone protruded from her shoulders like a sharp rock. 

Fyora's breathing was harsh. “Aethia!” She cried out, casting a furtive glance toward the still creature. Illusen’s hands, wings and legs felt heavier than lead, just as they had in the dark forest. 

Aethia burst through the double doors as Fyora’s cry reverberated through the expansive throne room. Her face twisted in disgust as she gazed upon the body of the creature but snapped to attention when Fyora beckoned her with a cleared throat. 

“She’s exhausted.” Fyora brushed more of Jhudora’s hair out of her eyes. Illusen licked her lips and willed her legs to kneel her down beside Fyora, as far away as she could get from the rotting monster without seeming craven. 

“Shall I take her to the infirmary?” Aethia asked. Fyora’s eyes grew still as she considered the ramifications of sending Jhudora into the infirmary unannounced. There would be chaos. She shook her head. 

“No. Though she is unconscious now, I cannot imagine that she would want or accept my help.” Fyora sighed. Aethia moved to lift Jhudora off Fyora’s lap and gathered her into her arms as best she could. 

“Take her back to her promontory and make sure she’s not running a fever.” Aethia nodded. Illusen’s heart pounded with apprehension as Jhudora was lifted into the air and flown out of the room. Fyora slowly got up from the floor and turned her sceptre in her hands. She shot the creature an indiscernible look and gave it a wide berth. Illusen was speechless. 

“Again, I must apologize for putting you both through that traumatizing situation. I would’ve sent a band of my warriors if I could.” Questions flooded Illusen’s brain as she recalled what Jhudora said about the shield. The metal bands, too, provoked curious questions. She could only hope Fyora was more transparent with her answers than Jhudora. 

“No apology necessary.” 

“You look tense, Illusen, but I suppose that’s only natural given the circumstances. Is there anything you’d like to get off your chest?” Illusen unconsciously released a long breath, feeling her head become light with the sudden lack of oxygen. 

Fyora’s eyes were too inviting and too honest. There were many things that Illusen wanted to ask her; most of them pertained to Jhudora. It didn’t help that those questions could be taken offensively. She rattled her brain and clamped her tongue between her teeth lest it betray her and spew out a deluge of questions before she could choose her words carefully. 

Round and round the questions tumbled in her head. Jhudora’s cuffs, Jhudora’s condition, her bluff, her errands, the faulty shield; all of it was just too much. Illusen’s brain fizzled in her skull. She didn’t notice the throne room doors crack open and a harlequin pair of faeries poke their heads inside. 

The pair of faeries screeched upon first glimpse of the monster. The shrill sound shocked Illusen out of her foggy brainstorm and did little to alleviate her frazzled nerves. Fyora still looked upon her with deep, genuine concern. 

“Queen Fyora!” The mismatched pair shouted in unison, rushing over to Fyora’s side and all but poking and prodding the creature. 

It was then Illusen realised that the sharp screen wasn’t one of terror, but ecstasy. Fyora managed a small smile in her direction before the faeries swamped her with a torrential flood of questions. Fyora waved her hand to staunch the rapid flow of questions, casually reminding the pair to breathe. 

They had brought with them a large, metal cage. Illusen wondered if the cage was made of the same material as the chains fastened around Jhudora’s forearms. She didn’t have the chance to voice her question; the harlequin pair grabbed the subdued creature and tossed it into the cage. Its flank hit the cage bars with great force and its body wheezed out a sorry breath of air as the cage door slammed shut. 

As quickly and brazenly as they came, the pair hefted the cage onto their shoulders and zipped out of the room. Illusen could hear their excited chattering and plans of experimentation through the thick double doors. She felt a warm hand place itself upon her shoulder and gently guide her into Fyora’s private study. 

An aura of light pink magic engulfed a chair and pulled it out. Illusen sat and crossed her legs while Fyora looked at her, wearing the same transparent expression as before. Her thoughts were still as jumbled as ever; her tongue felt engorged and she didn’t think that she had the nerve to spit out the question plaguing the forefront of her mind. 

“What’s going on, Illusen?” Fyora asked, sitting herself down on the opposite side of the short table. Illusen’s hand shook and she curled them into tight fists. 

“Forgive me for my audacity, but I can’t help but have some questions that I want answered.” She hesitantly raised her eyes to meet Fyora’s own. Fyora had taken off her crown and set it on the surface in front of them. Her sceptre leaned against the wall, faintly shimmering with innate magic. 

“Go on.” Fyora said, tone light and eyes inviting. Illusen swallowed a persistent lump in her throat. Her hands felt clammy. 

“It’s about Jhudora.” She said. 

“I figured as much. Did something happen in those woods, Illusen?” She cleared her throat and shook her head. 

“The only adversity we encountered was the creature. Nature did not try to oppose us.” Fyora nodded and touched a finger to her cheek. She stared down at the table for a brief moment before looking to Illusen. 

“And Jhudora?” She asked. 

“Jhudora was not malicious towards me.” Illusen fitfully tried to calm the shaking of her hands. 

“Queen Fyora,” She said, eyes wide and cheeks flushed with strain. “Jhudora saved my life.” Fyora’s eyes grew wide at her unexpected announcement. Illusen’s heart raced as she heard the sentence that spilled from her mouth. 

It hadn’t been a lie. It was the truth: Jhudora saved her. Saying it out loud made it sound preposterous. When the creature leapt at her in the darkness, Jhudora intervened before it sank its teeth into her throat. Illusen’s life was worthless to her and a magic spell of that caliber must’ve exhausted her beyond belief. 

Illusen clamped a hand over her mouth and squeezed her eyes shut. No tears came, but the familiar burn at the back of her sinuses was prevalent as ever. Fyora set a gentle hand on her shoulder and squeezed it. 

“Illusen.” She murmured. Illusen’s body shook violently. 

“I need to know.” She rasped. “I need to know what you demanded of her in that cave.” Illusen looked up, trapping Fyora in her desperate gaze. “Did you demand that she save me?” 

The tip of Fyora’s tongue peeked out and wet her lips. Slowly, she shook her head. 

“I only asked that she keep you both safe by any means necessary.” Illusen drew in a ragged breath. She could already predict the nightmares worsening with time. This time, she would have to watch the creature leap into the air on its powerful hindquarters and feel the wind get knocked out of her lungs as it landed on her chest and sank its teeth into her throat and ripped off her skin and tear open her chest and-- 

The tears came hot and fast. Fyora brushed them away with the palm of her hand. Her lips were set into a deep frown and her eyebrows were knit close together. Her eyes shone with unshed tears. 

“My dear Illusen.” She whispered. Illusen gasped for breath and willed herself not to break into a loud sob. 

“Tell me.” She choked out instead. Fyora cupped her cheek and wiped away the deluge of tears. 

“Everything.” Fyora promised. Illusen’s heart gave a maverick skip. “I asked her to accompany you because I knew I was sending you into danger. Her talent with magic is unsurpassed.” A despondent sigh escaped her lips. 

“With Jhudora by your side, I knew you would both return to me alive. I wanted the creature captured, yes, but not at the cost of your life.” She closed her eyes, a single silver tear slipping from her eye. “Never would I want something to cost your life.” 

Illusen swallowed the lump in her throat and felt it lessen in intensity. “Is that why you gave me the shield with a detection charm?” Fyora smiled wanly. 

“Yes. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. I should have been.” Illusen took Fyora’s hand off her cheek and held it in her own. 

“Jhudora was the enchantress?” 

Fyora gave a nod of her head. “Around thirty-seven years ago, I asked her to enchant me a set of armour that could repel any attack. Instead, she presented me with a single orichalcum shield that glowed when threats approached.” She hid a laugh behind her hand. “Although she intended to mock my paranoia, the shield proved to be far more effective at repelling attacks by preventing them.” 

“And the metal arm cuffs?” Illusen asked. Fyora bit at her lip and cleared her throat. 

“Jhudora’s known for her temper.” Illusen couldn’t help but agree. “While using cold iron was barbaric of me, I had to make sure that she would not harm you.” Fyora let out a shaky breath. Illusen’s finger tapped at her thigh. 

“But Jhudora subdued the creature with magic.” She said. “And she ignited the source with channeled fire.” 

“Cold iron completely nullifies a faerie’s magic. That Jhudora was able to summon fire and cast a powerful binding spell is rather concerning.” Fyora’s eyes sharpened in recollection. 

“What of the spellbook?” Illusen bit the inside of her cheek. Her heart twisted itself in knots and she took a calming breath to steady herself. 

“The creature ripped it to shreds.” She said. Fyora raised an eyebrow. 

“Did it?” Illusen nodded. She could feel her heart slowly wither. 

“I suppose that’s for the best.” Fyora tapped her fingernail on the table. “I think the entirety of Faerieland will sleep easier with that spellbook destroyed.” Illusen chewed her lip. 

It pained her to see Fyora accept her deceit with an open heart. It was a selfish lie. Illusen held no loyalty to Jhudora; it would be the right thing to fly back to Meridell and hand Fyora the spellbook rather than keep it hidden in a drawer in her bedroom. Her teeth clamped down tight on her tongue. It wiggled and squirmed as the truth died in Illusen’s throat.

Fyora gave a small sigh. “She’s quite thin, isn’t she?” Illusen ceased her internal squabble over morality and white lies. 

“Her skin is nearly translucent.” Fyora licked her lips. “I’m worried about her, Illusen. I don’t want her to wither away.” 

To hear Fyora talk about Jhudora with such a degree of familiarity was jarring. Jhudora wanted nothing to do with either of them, yet Fyora dotted on her as a mother would. Illusen’s heart twinged in sympathy. 

“I send a patrol up to her promontory every week with fresh food, water, and general necessities. They always return empty-handed, saying that Jhudora accepted the offerings, but she’s gotten progressively thinner. I don’t know what to do. I can’t make her eat, just like I can’t make her drink.” 

Illusen chewed her lip. If Jhudora had accepted Fyora’s feelings of maternity, how different would she have been? Could their friendship have survived? She didn’t know what to say. Touching Fyora was crossing a boundary, yet she didn’t want to risk saying something insensitive.

“I’ll visit her.” Fyora’s eyes snapped open in surprise and Illusen’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment. 

“Will you?” Fyora asked. Illusen forced her head to nod in agreement. It astounded her that the movement felt completely natural. It scared her that her promise was genuine. 

“Every week.” She said. Any feelings of doubt were quickly eradicated by Fyora’s beaming smile. She felt a wave of relief wash over them both. 

“That’s fantastic to hear, Illusen. I do not doubt that your companionship will do her some good.” Fyora’s eyes dropped down to the table though the brilliant smile never left her face. Any sign of worry or stress had vanished. 

“Will she welcome me?” Illusen asked. It was a silly question that she already knew the answer to, but she wanted verbal confirmation from Fyora.

“It’s unlikely that she will. At first, hostility will be expected. I would offer to accompany you, but I’m afraid Jhudora and I haven’t been on the best of terms for more than a century.” Fyora sucked her teeth. “You’ll grow on her. Be patient with her, Illusen. No one else was.” 

Illusen saw the subtle undulation of Fyora’s throat as she swallowed. She, too, felt overwhelmed with information and Jhudora’s sneer, callous attitude and dangerous penchant for witchcraft reminded her of why she cut ties in the first place. One hundred and twenty years flew by in a blink of an eye. Every glower Jhudora shot her way, every gleam of her teeth as she bared them in a snarl and every frown that cut her gaunt face in two sent an ache to Illusen’s heart. 

Unwanted memories flooded her conscious. She suppressed them for a reason, only to have them flood back into the forefront of her mind at the mere mention of Jhudora’s name. Fyora wore a light, whimsical smile as she entertained the thought of Illusen making merry with her most hated nemesis. 

Jaw clenched painfully shut, Illusen bowed low to the ground and took her leave. The next week would be an unrelenting hell for her moral compass.

*

The creature’s claws raked across her shield and sent it flying out of her grip. Illusen swiped forward with her wooden dagger, grazing the beast across its snout and drawing a thin line of black ooze. It snarled and drew back, rubbing the shallow cut with its paw and smearing thick, black gunk over its face. Illusen was trapped in never-ending darkness. The shield glowed from its fallen position far away, and she knew that making an erratic dive for it would result in a painful death.

Illusen’s breathing was quick and strained. The creature sat back on its hindquarters and looked at her with empty eye sockets. She felt its gaze settle on her though she couldn’t make out the silhouette in the vast darkness. Her skin prickled with goosebumps. It was quiet, watching her with the same rapt attention of a predator stalking its prey. 

Illusen’s arm shook as she held the dagger close to her chest. Her last line of defence had been cast aside like a useless piece of sheet metal. She had no light, no allies, and no hope against the monstrosity watching her from a short distance. 

She wondered if this was what the baby Acara felt before the creature delivered the killing blow. Toyed with, stalked, and finally put out of its misery only to be stripped of its organs and muscle and assembled into an abhorrent perversion of nature. 

The creature stood and lumbered further into darkness, disregarding Illusen like the nuisance she was. Though it had its back to her, the creature could just as easily change its mind, turn around and leap the distance to sever her head from her body. It wouldn’t be hard and it wouldn’t require any effort on its part. It chose to leave. Illusen listened to its heavy footsteps retreating further and further into the darkness until all that was left was the rustling of the trees and her irregular breathing. 

The shield went out.

*

Tati’s presence did little to alleviate her growing concerns. Illusen spent most of her day weeding and tending to the small garden she kept behind her modest cottage, sweeping up fallen leaves to repurpose into mulch, and checking on her Glade. The winds were beginning to turn cold. She found that as the temperature dropped, more Neopians would seek shelter around her Glade’s inviting campfire. 

Last night’s dream was ominous. It didn’t end in bloodshed like the others, but the listless attitude of a once violent and malignant creature shocked her into silence for the majority of the day. Tati bounced beside her in quiet bliss, helping her weed and water without getting in her way, and Illusen found she enjoyed his company significantly more when fewer words were spoken. 

She felt a hot bloom of shame burn her ears and coat the back of her neck. It was a horrible realization to have, especially since Tati was a paragon of unassuming kindness, but it didn’t make it any less true. If Tati blabbered on and on about some trivial topic, Illusen felt her head would burst from overstimulation.

The cool dirt soothed her hands while the gentle swaying of her plants helped her focus on the present rather than her ambiguous dreams. In a few short hours, she would have to make the trek back to Faerieland and deliver Jhudora her spellbook. Her week of freedom had flown by. She made a promise to Fyora, and while the contents of that promise were against her wishes, she intended to follow through for as long as she could. 

Jhudora would have to learn to tolerate her existence. Of the two, Jhudora was always the faster learner. Her quick wit and impressive memory were unparalleled. Illusen excelled in social and environmental studies while Jhudora sought solace among her dusty books and yellowing scrolls of parchment. 

Tati left for Roo Island when the sun began its descent. She didn’t have any of Jhudora’s teleportation powder, and she dared not ask Fyora for another green pearl, so she steeled herself for the long and arduous fly to Faerieland knowing full well that no sincere gratitude was waiting for her. 

The cold evening air ruffled her wings and flowed through her hair as she took the shortest route she could remember. She didn’t look forward to seeing Jhudora despite Fyora’s insistence that they put their past behind them and work towards a better future. 

Fyora never gave a hint for how long she should stay with Jhudora. Illusen could already predict the strained body language, terse and one-sided conversations and the glowering looks one would send in the other’s direction. 

A small part of her chastised herself for her unfair bias. A lot had changed over the last century and Illusen was no fool; she knew that even Jhudora couldn’t withstand the test of time. It was with a dejected sigh that she fluttered herself up to Jhudora’s cave, spellbook held tightly in her arms, and waited. 

The cauldron rolled with bubbling, yellow liquid. Books and miscellaneous rolls of parchment were strewn across Jhudora’s workspace and the cave interior looked positively frantic. Potion bottles were shattered on the cave floor, their multicoloured liquids slowly leaking and mixing into unknown concoctions, and various dried herbs, mushrooms, and preservatives were scattered everywhere. 

Jhudora was nowhere to be found. A strong gust of chilling wind blasted through the open cave and spilled dying embers across the floor. Illusen decided against setting down the spellbook. If whatever, or whoever, ransacked the cave then she could use the tome as a projectile or bludgeon. She walked further into the cave and peeked her head behind a wall of rock. She was greeted by an impromptu storage space housing more books and the occasional spiderweb. 

Behind the tall shelf of books, Illusen saw a spiral staircase spin up into the ceiling and disappear beyond that. She tentatively approached it, keeping an ear open and alert for Jhudora, and ascended. The staircase opened up into the night sky and left her standing on crumbly, purple brick. 

From her vantage point, she could see every shining star in the sky and hear the roar of a waterfall. The isolation was soothing. The waterfall drowned out her intrusive thoughts and allowed Illusen a much needed moment of respite. If she could, she would stay here forever. 

Somewhere in her revelry, her eyes slipped closed and the spellbook tumbled out of her arms and onto the floor below her feet. She bent down and dusted off the tome, pausing as her eyes grew wide in bewilderment and her cheeks glowed red with embarrassment. 

Illusen knew she resembled a fool, gawking like that. Her eyes refused to avert their rebellious gaze from the pale skin of Jhudora’s exposed back. There she stood, high above the ground and gaping like a buffoon as her despicable nemesis bathed near the base of the waterfall below. 

Illusen could barely make out the protruding outline of Jhudora’s spine as it snaked down her back. She saw the thin visage of Jhudora’s arms as she raised them to gently wash over them with a towel. Illusen felt like a dirty pervert taking advantage of Jhudora’s vulnerability by unintentionally peeping on her.

She rushed back down into the cave foyer before Jhudora could finish her washing and left the spellbook on the crowded worktable. She had fulfilled her request. Leaving proved easier than expected as her feet propelled her out of the cave and her wings carried her through the air to seek to comfort of her bed and the safety of Meridell. 

Her nightmares worsened. 

*

It had been a mere three days since her previous encounter with Jhudora and Illusen couldn’t help but reflect on what she saw that fateful night. She was glad that the castle extended to such height or else Jhudora might’ve turned around out of suspicion and caught her red-handed. The cup of tea sat untouched in front of her, cooling rapidly, and the book she had every intention of starting remained unexplored. 

Fyora’s concerns weren’t a product of her paranoia; Jhudora was near skeletal. Under her usual attire was a thin layer of pale purple skin that did nothing but cover her protruding bones. She had little muscle and fat and it made her seem petite. 

Illusen took a large gulp of her tea to wash away unwanted thoughts. The same thoughts and images had been plaguing her every waking hour. She thought more about Jhudora these past few days than she had in the last century. She wanted so desperately to pin the blame on Fyora, but her stalwart conscience wouldn’t let her. Fyora wasn’t the one responsible for her pledge of companionship; _she_ was. Fyora didn’t let her curiosity get the better of herself and traverse into an uncharted part of the forest; that mistake fell onto _her_ shoulders. 

What Fyora _had_ done was brought them back together. Did Illusen care for Jhudora? No, the sheer thought of it was preposterous. She took another gulp of her tea and cringed as some of it dribbled out of her mouth. She wiped off the excess with a napkin and stared longingly at the unopened book. She knew that her mind wouldn’t quiet itself down for her to enjoy a book. 

After all, Jhudora wasn’t her friend. Illusen knew that Fyora wanted them to be friends again. They were closer than twins; Jhudora’s sharp wit combined with Illusen’s charisma made them renown across Faerieland. Everything was perfect until Jhudora succumbed to the forbidden arts and tampered with the delicate balance of life and death.

She let out an uneasy sigh and let the memory wash over her. Illusen saw the damage with her own eyes. Jhudora had performed a ritual that drained a faerie’s life. She was a killer. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her to consort with a killer. She could still hear the shrill screaming ringing in her ears. There was nothing she could have done except watch Jhudora mix elixir after elixir of glowing, grey liquid while the still body of a faerie lay prone on the grassy meadows. 

She left Fyora’s court and Faerieland as a whole soon after. Jhudora didn’t deserve a goodbye and Fyora never understood her frantic departure. Illusen numbly lifted the cup to her lips and found it disappointingly empty. Did Jhudora know that she saw her dabble into black magic? Her cold demeanour gave nothing away. 

Three days from now, Illusen promised herself with steel resolve, she would confront Jhudora and enlighten Fyora. It was the only way she could sleep at night and lay the soul of Jhudora’s poor victim to rest. 

*

Jhudora was waiting when Illusen arrived late in the evening, propped up against her wooden chair as she stirred whatever concoction bubbled away in her cauldron. The spellbook was neatly tucked away in the makeshift bookshelf. Illusen felt a fiery lump lodge itself in her throat. Gone were the images of Jhudora’s back glistening with water or her long hair cascading down her thin shoulders. They were replaced with the burning memories of forbidden magic, charred grass and still bodies. 

Jhudora looked at her through half-lidded eyes, expression bored and mouth twisted into its usual frown. Illusen stared back, mouth tight and eyebrows furrowed. Finally, Jhudora exhaled through her nose and moved from her cauldron. 

“You brought my spellbook back.” She said. Illusen gave a short nod of her head. Her neck popped. 

“Yes. You weren’t here so I set it on your desk.” The desk was cleaner than before and the floor was void of the spilled elixirs and shattered glass vials. 

“Thank you.” Illusen blinked. The word sounded foreign in Jhudora’s voice.

“You’re welcome.” She stared at the ground while Jhudora tended to her cauldron. The tense silence was shattered when Illusen’s wings began to flutter and levitated her into the air of their own accord.

“What are you making?” She asked. Jhudora opened a vial and poured a conservative drop of slippery liquid into the mixture. The cauldron nearly bubbled over and Jhudora stirred with renewed vigour.

“A potion.” She said and plucked a fresh sprig of some herb Illusen had never seen before. With dexterous fingers, she pinched the end and zipped her thumb and index finger down the length of the sprig, dropping the individual herbs into the rolling cauldron below. Its violent bubbling slowed and calmed to a bare simmer. 

“Why are you here?” Jhudora asked, looking up once she was sure her concoction wouldn’t boil over. Illusen contemplated telling the truth. 

“To visit you.” It was Jhudora’s turn to gawk in surprise. 

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Illusen fluttered over to the cauldron and ignored Jhudora’s quiet growl of annoyance. 

She knew Jhudora wouldn’t appreciate the truth, yet she didn’t trust herself enough to formulate a convincing lie. Lies and innocent white lies had always been Jhudora’s forte, not hers. The liquid bubbled and Illusen ducked back before any bubbles could burst and spray her face and neck with hot liquid. 

“Jhudora, don’t you think it’s time we talked?” She said. 

“We talked two weeks ago.” Illusen cleared her throat as Jhudora returned her attention to one of many open books scattered across her table. 

“I don’t mean idle conversation. Jhudora, I know what I saw.” She took a deep breath and steeled herself for Jhudora’s imminent outburst of anger. “You _killed_ someone.” Jhudora stared at her, face unmoving and eyes narrowed. Illusen grit her teeth and stared her down. 

“You’re mistaken.” Jhudora said evenly. “I don’t take kindly to slanderous accusations.” 

“I was there, Jhudora! One hundred and twenty years ago, I saw you drain the essence of an innocent and use it to fuel your forbidden magic!” 

Jhudora backed away from the cauldron and stalked across the cave ground, putting a distance between Illusen and herself. Illusen’s eyes immediately went to the wooden staff. If she had to charge forward and grab it before Jhudora could fling a curse at her, she was confident in her speed and reflexes. 

“You’re mistaken.” Jhudora said again. She didn’t make a maverick grab for her staff or move to pry her spellbook free from the bookshelf. Instead, Jhudora crossed her arms and met Illusen’s heated glare with apathy. 

“How can you lie about this?!” Illusen’s voice was shrill with righteous fury. Her fists were balled and the short crescents of her nails dug into the flesh of her palm. 

“If you’re only here to wrongly accuse me of murder, then I suggest you leave. I don’t want anything to do with you.” Illusen was positive the hot tears rolling down her cheeks weren’t of desperation but blinding anger. 

“I saw you take her life. I watched as her body grew grey and desolate as you drained her essence into a bottle. Then, you _burned_ her. Scorched her body with your hellfire until it was charred black.” Her voice was unrecognizable. 

Her feet had a mind of their own as they propelled Illusen into Jhudora’s face. She towered over Jhudora by an inconsequential inch, but the slight height advantage filled her with righteous vigour. She was close enough to count each strand of Jhudora’s eyelashes and see how the purple of her eyes intensified near the pupil. 

Jhudora remained undaunted. “You’re wrong.” She said. Illusen nearly shoved her. 

“Do you want to know what really happened?” Jhudora asked, taking a step back and reaching for her staff. Illusen gave a terse nod of her head, watching the staff with sharp eyes. 

“Compose yourself.” She said. Illusen took a deep breath, held in her lungs, then let it out. Her anger was still there, but her head was less foggy with rage. 

“Well?” She snapped when Jhudora watched her with an impassive look on her face. 

“Baelia.” Illusen jerked back in surprise. “She came to me out of desperation; she was nearing the tipping point.” Jhudora continued as if she didn’t exist. 

“I won’t go into details about why she came to me, but just understand that her situation was as unique as it was dire. Nothing in my spellbooks could offer me any insight about her condition.” 

“She lost her wings. Her magic.” Illusen breathed. Jhudora shot her a narrow look.

“That was a part of it.” Illusen bit her tongue to avoid any more interruptions. “Grey faeries are considered an anomaly. Their sheer existence juxtaposes the very nature of Faerieland, yet they’re not uncommon. Baelia was different, and to help her I was forced to smuggle spellbooks and access forbidden archives until I found a single recipe that described Baelia’s situation in detail.” She took a breath and sighed. 

“It was written in Old Fae. No one alive today speaks it. The recipe wasn’t a potion, but rather a set of instructions for advanced alchemy. I’m sure you know the first rule of alchemy.” 

“Nothing can be gained without equal exchange.” Jhudora clicked her tongue. 

“Precisely. Baelia wanted her wings back. To do that, she would have to restore her magic.” Illusen chewed the inside of her cheek. 

“According to the law of equivalent exchange, that’s two transactions. One for the restoration of her magic, the second for her wings.” Jhudora paused, finding the stone ground very interesting. 

“She was willing to give up everything. Her wealth, her title,” Jhudora sighed. “her name.” 

“Did she?” 

“No. It was difficult to convince her that giving up her name wasn’t worth any amount of magic in the world.” Jhudora lifted her head and held Illusen in her gaze. “Magic itself requires a heavy sacrifice. No amount of blood nor flesh could satisfy it.”

Illusen looked away, her anger dissipated and her chest aching with the familiar feeling of melancholy. If no amount of blood, no weight of flesh, and no sum of wealth could amount to the value of magic, then what could? 

Jhudora’s lips dipped down in a heavy frown. “She was adamant.” Illusen felt another tear slip from her eye and drip onto the ground below. 

“Many view magic as a part of them; a second soul if you will. A soul for a soul. A part of me was curious if it would work, but deep down I knew that success would mean her death. She accepted it, too. She told me that she could no longer see the beautiful colours of Faerieland as the seasons shifted. The trees became monochromatic and the sky lost its vibrant hue. Even the castle, the most eye-catching thing around for miles, was lackluster.” 

“She was willing to give everything just to see the world bloom once more.” Jhudora’s voice was as quiet as a whisper in the night. She reached up and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. 

Illusen was shellshocked. If Jhudora spoke the truth, then their whole feud was baseless. She couldn’t hate someone for something they didn’t do. 

“I played along for a while. She placed her trust in me and I intentionally broke it because I knew it was misplaced and rash. Alchemy should never be performed under desperation. When I laid the sand and spoke the incantation, Baelia gave her soul and I trapped it in a vial. Her magic returned to her and for a brief moment I saw her eyes well up with tears as she took in her surroundings.” 

“I was supposed to smash the vial and release her soul. It would have completed the ritual and granted Baelia her magic, but left her as an empty, walking husk powered by magic. It was too steep a price to pay. I uncorked the vial and directed her soul back into her body.” Jhudora fixated her with another sharp glare. 

“The charring you saw was the magic escaping her body. It was gone as quickly as it came in and left some unfortunate burns on her body. She’s alive and well. I hear she’s doing better.” Her tone gave nothing away. Illusen trembled as her mind process Jhudora’s words. After hating the girl who stood a mere arm’s length away from her for more than a century, her heart found it difficult to accept Jhudora’s words as truth. 

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Jhudora shrugged. 

“You can ask Baelia yourself. I don’t care what you do. I’ve told you all that I can; it’s your hubris that prevents you from seeing the truth.” Illusen bit down on her tongue before a sharp retort could wrench itself free from her lips. 

“Fine.” She didn’t know where to find Baelia. At most, she could ask Fyora, but that would invoke Fyora’s questioning into why she wanted Baelia in the first place. It would be easier to ask Fyora to verify Jhudora’s account and make sure she wasn’t misled. 

“Anything else?” Jhudora deadpanned. Illusen pressed her lips together and flew out of the cave without a response. 


	5. It Ended When You Said Goodbye

“She’s absolutely insufferable!” Illusen growled and nearly knocked over her cup of tea with a frantic jerk of her arm. Fyora watched her simmer in anger and worried her lip between her teeth. 

“What happened, Illusen?” She asked as gently as she could manage. Illusen’s emotions ran high and nearly spilled over on her trek back to Faerieland. Last week’s visit with Jhudora left her emotionally exhausted and morally agitated. 

“She fed me a long-winded tale.” She saw Fyora’s lips part in questioning. Though she did not voice her inquiry, the curious gleam in her eyes shouted her request to the heavens. 

Illusen heaved a sigh. “She told me about Baelia.” Fyora’s cheerful disposition fell off her face and was quickly replaced by an intense look of somber. 

“Did she?” She licked her lips. “Did you ask about Baelia by name?” Illusen shook her head. 

“I wanted to confront her about what happened one hundred and twenty years ago.” Fyora nodded her head in remembrance. 

“That was when you left Faerieland, was it not?” 

“Yes.” A blush of shame ran across the bridge of her nose and crawls up to the tips of her ears. “I accused her of being a murderer.” Fyora’s eyebrows knit together. 

“I see.” It was Fyora’s turn to sigh. She entwined her hand and rested her chin atop them. “Jhudora’s no killer, Illusen.” Illusen could only nod her head in embarrassment. 

“She’s many things, but she doesn’t have the propensity to rob someone of their life.” The curious gleam flared up once more. “What exactly did she tell you, if you don’t mind relaying to me?” 

“Of course not. I came here to do just that.” Illusen took a cautious sip of her tea. It was floral and pleasant. 

“Jhudora said that Baelia asked her to perform an alchemical ritual to restore her magic and grant her her wings.” Fyora nodded in encouragement. 

“No amount of blood, no weight of flesh, and no sum of wealth were enough to equate the price of magic.” Illusen let out a shaky breath and folded her hands in her lap. She twisted her fingers and squeezed the tips. “So, she decided to give her soul.” 

“Jhudora agreed to perform the ritual, but she knew alchemy could never be done under desperation’s influence. She bottled Baelia’s soul and when it came time to consummate the trade, Jhudora uncorked the vial and released Baelia’s soul back into her body.” Illusen stared down at the intricate tablecloth that laid gracefully over a marble table. 

Fyora reached over and gently lifted Illusen’s head back up. She smiled and withdrew her hand. Illusen tried her best to smile, but it felt immensely forced. 

“Did she say anything else?” Fyora inquired. 

“She said that Baelia was willing to give everything just to see the world bloom once more. Without magic, the world around her greyed.” 

Fyora was silent. She held a cup of tea in her slightly shaking hand and brought it to her lips. Illusen feared that it would slip and fall to the ground, spilling everywhere. 

“I hope it’s not too abrasive of me to ask, but was Jhudora telling the truth?” Fyora’s eyes were glassy with reflection as she gave a slow nod of her head. 

“Yes.” She said. “Every word of it is true.” Illusen felt her heart plummet. 

“What do I do now?” She whispered, feeling decades of guilt and animosity creep up and encroach upon her like stalking animals. She fell prey to their harsh whispers and fleeting memories. 

Fyora gave her a wane smile. “You need each other more than either of you realize. Talk to her.”

Illusen’s body felt numb with shock. Her hands trembled in her lap as she squeezed her fingers into a fist and unclenched them just to see the red blood flow back into her pale digits. 

Fyora’s smile grew despondent. “Ask her about her castle.” She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“Can’t you tell me about her castle?” 

“I think it would be better for you to hear it from her.” Fyora’s voice was watery. 

*

Illusen stopped herself mid-step as she approached the intimidating castle. Just inside the cave was a green Kougra waiting impatiently for something. He huffed and dug his hindlegs against the cave floor, occasionally scraping the stone with his claws and sending a small shower of sparks flying into the air. She didn’t recognize him and hoped he wouldn’t recognize her. 

Jhudora came out from the darkness a minute. Illusen watched their exchange with rapt attention. She knew Jhudora would strike deals with Neopians, but she’d never seen it in person. Perhaps the contents of her deals were exaggerated, like everything else regarding Jhudora. 

The green Kougra handed over a satchel nearly bursting with capacity. Jhudora snatched the satchel away and gave the waiting Kougra a glowing yellow potion. Before he could pop the cork and down the elixir, Jhudora shooed him away and set to unpacking her prize. Illusen hid behind a large tree as the Kougra descended the stairs, muttering loudly about his rude eviction, and ran jubilantly back to Faerie City. 

Illusen remained still for a moment longer to ensure he wouldn’t change his mind and come barreling back. With all threats gone, Illusen flew into the mouth of the cave in a quick burst of energy. Jhudora stumbled backwards and dropped the satchel in surprise, sending the contents tumbling out. 

A growl formed in the back of Jhudora throat as Illusen smiled sheepishly and bent down to help pick up the mess she made. The green Kougra had brought Jhudora a dozen glistening, golden apples. 

Jhudora huffed and snatched away the satchel once Illusen picked up every last spilled apple and checked them for bruises. The apples were unharmed. 

“They’re not for eating.” Jhudora grumbled when Illusen cast a questioning glance in her direction. 

“Then what do you need them for? And who was that Kougra?” 

Jhudora inspected her apples, leaving Illusen to stand lamely in the foyer of the cave in silence. 

“They’re Kyrii apples.” She said as if it answered Illusen’s questions. “Golden Kyrii Apples of Healing.” 

“I thought Kyriis were allergic to apples.” 

“They are.” Jhudora flicked the surface of the apple with her fingers. “Don’t ask.” Illusen swallowed her next question. 

“Are you going to bug me on a weekly basis?” 

“I’d rather you interpret it as a friendly meeting, Jhudora.” 

“Friendly.” Jhudora deadpanned. Illusen nodded and gave her best attempt at a genuine smile. It came out a little hesitant. 

“You hate me.” She said blankly. Illusen ignored the urge to clear her throat. 

“Well, don’t you?” She raised a brow.

Jhudora scowled. “Don’t I what?” 

“Hate me, too.” There was a part of her that feared the answer. Jhudora set her apples aside and grabbed her staff, leaning on it for support as she walked into the darkness of the cave. Illusen stared after her, mouth defiantly set into a thin line. Jhudora’s attempts at brushing her off wouldn’t work. She’d wait until she got her answer, even if it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. 

She heard the sound of soft coughing echoing from the depths of the cave. Jhudora re-emerged with a short stack of books cradled in her arms. Illusen swallowed. 

Slowly, Jhudora stroked the fledgling fire until it grew large and devoured any kindling she fed it. From a wooden bucket, she poured water into the cauldron and plucked a few dry herbs from their brown stems. Illusen saw the way Jhudora’s shoulders sagged with effort as she lifted the pail of water and tipped it into the cauldron. When the water began to boil, Jhudora threw in a myriad of other ingredients, some so foreign-looking Illusen had to blink to make sure her eyes didn’t deceive her. 

When the concoction turned a dark red, Jhudora added the apples one after another, taking great care not to drop any and splash bubbling liquid on her skin. When all the apples were submerged, Jhudora stirred and left the cauldron alone to simmer. 

“I don’t hate you.” Jhudora said, eyes firmly planted on her bubbling brew. Illusen was taken aback by her declaration. 

“You don’t?” Her question was laden with surprise. Jhudora gave a shake of her head. 

“No.” 

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t completely blindsided. A lot had happened in the past month so it was only natural that Illusen experienced some soul searching and morality realignment, but the one thing she would’ve consistently bet money on was Jhudora’s hatred towards her. Jhudora hated her because Illusen burned the bridge between them. At least, she should have. If she was the same Jhudora as Illusen befriended all those years ago, then she would’ve been near enthusiastic about holding a grudge over Illusen’s head. 

Jhudora sat in silence, watching her cauldron boil and slowly change colour as the apples dissolved and lent their magical properties to the mixture. Illusen leaned her back against the table, arms loosely crossed over her chest. 

“Why?” She saw the minute twitch of Jhudora’s ear as it strained to hear her murmured question of disbelief. 

Jhudora turned away from the cauldron and faced Illusen. “I don’t have the emotional tenacity to continuously despise someone for over a century.” She gave a slight scoff. “I’m not that petty.” 

“But I left you.” Illusen found herself saying. Her conscience attempted to understand Jhudora’s lack of hatred. Surely she couldn’t be the only one in this relationship capable of long term spite? 

“Yes.” Jhudora said and turned back to face the fire. Illusen dug her fingernails into the flesh of her upper arm. 

“Don’t you think I deserve an explanation, Jhudora?” 

“You never gave me one.” 

An irritated huff escaped Illusen’s lips. “I thought you were a murderer. It wasn’t until last week that I found out otherwise.” 

Jhudora twisted her neck and pinned her with an indiscernible look, mouth quirked down in her signature frown. “Did you really believe me to be a cold-blooded killer?” Illusen chewed up the inside of her cheek. She tasted the sharp, metallic taste of blood and released the bruised flesh.

She couldn’t answer. Yes, there was a not-so-distant time where she woke up in the morning and her first coherent thought would be filled with spite towards Jhudora. She used to curse her name when a Neopian came crying to her about their swollen tongue. She may have started the day by thinking about Jhudora, but she would never let her day end on a sour note. 

Jhudora turned her face away and set her jaw. Illusen felt the coil of guilt twist itself tighter around her stomach, squeezing and pummeling it with force. Jhudora remained quiet as if letting Illusen stew in her guilt. 

“I’m sorry.” She croaked out. The toil wrapped around her stomach lessened in tenacity when Jhudora graced her with a raise of her eyebrow. 

“Yes, I did believe you were a killer. I hated you with every fiber of my being for a century and some decades.” The words spilled out of her mouth like a flooded rain pipe. “Some days, I would wake up and my first thought would be how much I loathed you. I didn’t know that you were innocent, and I swear I’m not saying this just for the sake of my conscience.” She lowered her eyes to the floor. “I would take it all back if I could. I would’ve never left if I knew the truth.” 

Jhudora stared at her, face unreadable and brows pushed together. The crackling and consistent bubbling of the cauldron was the only respite from a suffocating silence. Illusen prayed that her facial expression wasn’t as desperate as her confession. 

With a trembling hand, Jhudora lifted the wooden stirrer from its holder and gently agitated the mixture. Bursts of bright yellow, orange and dark red swirled together until each colour lost its hue and coalesced into an attractive orange shade. 

“What would you have done,” Jhudora broke the silence. “if you had stayed behind and saw the ritual come to fruition?” 

Illusen breathed out a long exhale. “I was angry, Jhudora. If I didn’t storm away, I would’ve confronted you.” Jhudora raised a brow. 

“I hate to say it, but you were wise to storm away. If you had acted on impulse and interrupted, the results would’ve been... disastrous.” She chose her final word carefully. 

“I went to Fyora immediately after.” Illusen confessed and faltered when Jhudora’s face darkened. 

“Jhudora, you must understand, I sincerely believed you were invoking black magic. I wasn’t going to have the blood of innocent faeries on my hands because I kept quiet.” Jhudora took a long inhale, closed her eyes and held the air in her lungs. Illusen watched her body deflate as she exhaled. 

“Fine. Your sense of morality is unfortunately bilateral. Reality is much harsher; most things can’t be sorted into a simple black or white.” 

“I understand that now.” Illusen said. The fact that Jhudora hadn’t lashed out and screamed at her was astounding. “Your betrayal of Baelia’s trust, the alchemic ritual itself, and Baelia’s wish all fall on a spectrum. I just wish it didn’t appear as though you were killing her.” 

“Would you have stuck around and let me explain myself?” 

A deep flush erupted on Illusen’s face. “No, I wouldn’t have. If I saw evil, I was honour bound to report it.” 

A rare flash of emotion flickered in Jhudora’s eyes. She clenched her fists. “We weren’t on the best of terms then, were we?” 

Illusen’s mouth tugged into a remorseful smile. “I’m afraid not.” She smiled a bit wider when Jhudora tsked and waved her hand to dispel any feelings of regret. Gently, Illusen freed the stirring stick from its holder and gave the cauldron a gentle mix. 

Jhudora watched her work with careful eyes. When all splotches of colour had been reintegrated, the solution bubbled a delightful orange and smelled faintly of sweet, crisp apples. Illusen smiled at her work and hung the stirring rod up to drip dry. 

“What’s the potion for?” She asked. Jhudora gestured with her chin to one of her multiple tomes. The one in the center of the worktable was flipped open halfway and riddled with messy notes, reminders and recipe changes. Jhudora never had the neatest penmanship. 

Illusen pursued over the recipe, eyes widening in revelation. If Jhudora’s notes were correct, the concoction would reduce down to barely fill the smallest vial. A cure of such potency wouldn’t need a large dosage to be effective, but the cost of materials and labour for such little physical reward was bewildering. 

“Golden Kyrii Apples are difficult to find. The Kougra I sent wanted a gargantuan reward for a meager amount of effort, so I sent him on a wild mallard chase. Imagine my surprise when he came back with not one, but a dozen apples.”

“What did he want as compensation?” 

Jhudora rolled her eyes. “A bottle of liquid luck. Not just any bottle, one of the largest glass bottles I had. If you couldn’t tell, he’s not exactly a fellow of light morality.” 

Illusen coughed to suppress the chuckle bubbling in her throat. Knowing Jhudora, the larger the bottle the less concentrated the potion. The poor Kougra likely got some golden coloured water that would only benefit him for an hour or two. 

“He’ll be back.” Jhudora clicked her tongue and moved a strand of hair out of her face. “I know his type. He’s in it for the reward and nothing else.” 

“Is this what you’ve been doing for the past century?” She carefully closed the tome and slipped it back onto the shelf. "Sending Neopians out into the world to fetch miscellaneous items?"

“No.” Jhudora’s tone was flat. “All things considered, this lifestyle of mine was a recent development.” The next book was shelved with considerable agitation. It hit the cave wall and spewed a thick layer of dust into the air. Jhudora covered her nose and coughed, waving her hand to repel the cloud of dust. Illusen coughed into her elbow as the dust cloud permeated the air and invaded her nose. 

“Then what kept you occupied? Surely it was something important.” She said from the confines of her elbow.

“Prison.” 

Illusen’s ears rang as if someone had shaken loud brass bells into them. Jhudora’s face was unchanging save for the bemused quirk of the corner of her lip. 

“You were incarcerated?” She breathed out. The air around her felt light. She was truly naive to believe that there wouldn’t be consequences to follow her actions. Jhudora gave a slight nod of her head. Illusen felt further admonished. 

“Stars above, I put you in there, didn’t I?” She clasped a hand over her gaping mouth and rested her dizzy body against the cave wall. Her head spun. How could she not have realized the ramifications sooner? 

“Would you have confessed to Fyora if you knew the punishment was incarceration?” Her shoulders shook. 

“Yes.” She admitted pathetically. “Because I doggedly believed that any felony was befitting a punishment, no matter who was committing it.” 

Jhudora grunted. “At least you were forthright with your beliefs. Many don’t have the gall to uphold authentic principles, so they bend like grass and become hypocrites.” 

Illusen wanted to scream out an apology, but it wouldn’t change the past. “How long was your sentence?” Her conscience demanded to know. The knowledge of Jhudora’s penance wouldn’t help her sleep at night. If anything, it would keep awake and staring into the darkness of her room, pondering the reality that could be if she wasn’t so intransigent. 

“Why do you care so much?” Jhudora fixated her with a curious gaze. Illusen felt her heart pound wildly against her chest. Her words choked and died in her throat once more. 

“Please.” She stepped closer and gripped onto Jhudora’s shoulders. “Tell me how long they kept you caged down there.” She knew she reeked of the worst sort of desperation. She wasn’t acting on Fyora’s whim anymore; the desire to repair things with Jhudora and reconcile their friendship was uniquely her own. 

“Seventy years.” Illusen breath caught in her throat and her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Jhudora didn’t move to shake off the iron grip clamped around her boney shoulders. Illusen was thankful for that; she would’ve collapsed to the floor in grief. 

“They locked you in the dungeons for a lifetime.” Her voice sounded hoarse as she whispered the unfortunate reality. “For seventy years, they kept you caged in utter darkness.” 

“My sentence was initially one hundred years.” Jhudora brushed Illusen’s hands off her shoulders. “When Faerieland fell out of the sky, the castle was utterly destroyed. The dungeons were obliterated. It was a miracle there were no casualties.” 

“No, Jhudora, don’t say that.” Her hands shook with desperation. 

“They curtailed my sentence since there was no dungeon to hold me in. Instead of spending my days chained to a cold, stone wall, I was sent here.” Jhudora looked around the mouth of the cave and spread her arm out. “I atoned for my crime in exile.” 

Illusen gnawed at her inner lip. “It’s hardly a punishment if you’re still serving.” 

“Perhaps. When word about what I had done spread through Faerieland, the majority opinion was that I had gotten my just deserts. Exile only buttressed the land’s dislike of me.” Jhudora hardly flinched when Illusen sighed deeply and slid her back down the cave wall. She sat on the floor and tapped her finger against the cold stone, looking conflicted. 

“How can you stand being hated by so many?” She mumbled, pulling her legs up against her body and tucking her chin on her knees. “I can’t fathom it. I wouldn’t know how to live.” 

“You hated me for one hundred and twenty years.” Jhudora said. 

“I know. Hating someone doesn’t invoke the same ugly feeling as being hated by the masses.” 

“I beg to differ.” Jhudora took a seat in her wooden chair and gave her cauldron a cautionary glance. It gently rolled with bubbles. “Hate is a dark emotion. You would think that faeries, a species so jubilant and eccentric, would be incapable of hate, but the reality is that our hatred manifests itself in social exclusion and quiet gossip.” 

Illusen rubbed her face and repressed adolescent memories that threatened to plunge themselves into her conscious. “I hated you with a burning passion. It wasn’t social exclusion, Jhudora. It was almost debilitating how intensely I believed that you were truly despicable.” 

A slow half-smile spread its way across Jhudora’s face. It was the first time in over a century that she’d seen Jhudora smile. It was cathartic. 

“I’m rather proud that I made a goody-two-shoes like yourself abhor another living creature with every fiber of your being.” Illusen frowned, but there was no anger behind it. It Jhudora was comfortable enough to pop a sarcastic quip, then she’d made progress in great strides. 

“Even if that living creature was yourself?” She asked. 

“Especially since it was myself.” 

Illusen smiled and felt nostalgia radiate over her in calming waves. “I never knew you were so selfless.” This was what their friendship felt like. She wanted to bask in this feeling for as long as it would let her. 

Jhudora snorted. “Nice to see my dry wit rubbed off on you.” 

“People can change in a span of a century.” 

“I’m sure.” She said with her usual deadpan. 

The silence that encompassed them was pleasant. Illusen let her shoulders droop and muscles relax as she leaned her head back against the cool cave wall. She watched Jhudora stir her concoction and skim off the layer of scum forming atop the bubbles. It was nice. 

“Fyora didn’t want me incarcerated, you know.” Jhudora scoffed, face illuminated by the orange hue of her brew. Illusen sat up straight. “She didn’t intend to absolve me of my crimes, but my imprisonment was called upon by the public once the press found out.” 

“Oh.” Illusen shuffled her feet and crossed her legs. 

“A few wanted me executed.” A grim smile played its way onto Jhudora’s lips. Illusen was dismayed. “The calls for my death were quickly squandered by Fyora’s official announcement of my sentence, but that didn’t stop the idea from becoming popular with the zealous minority.” 

“Fyora had no power over the dungeons. The prisoners were under the reign of Nadezhda, Fyora’s warden. Under her jurisdiction, I was fed and watered once a day. My contact with the outside world was nonexistent and Nadezhda made sure to limit any social interaction.” Jhudora smirked, though her usual snark was missing. Illusen ground her teeth and kept her eyes focused on Jhudora’s face. 

“She wanted me to break and confess to the crime. I never did. Why bother confessing to something I didn’t do?” Illusen’s heart plummeted into her stomach. “Nadezhda wasn’t fond of physical torture, but she toyed with her prisoners psychologically. Shenkuu water torture was one of her preferred methods.” 

“Luckily for me, she decided that isolation was enough to drive me to madness, so she chained me to the wall and locked me in the cell, pushing food and water through a small slit in the iron door every so often.” She let out a long sigh through her nose. “Seventy years feels like an eternity when you’re alone in the dark. I all but lost sense of who I was. If it wasn’t for Nadezhda cursing my name and banging on the iron door when it came time for my meal, I would’ve succumbed to insanity.” 

“I had nothing to do but think. I went through every memory I could remember. Every conversation; every interaction, no matter how small and inconsequential; and every name and face. I reflected on who I was, why I was put on this plant,” She closed her eyes, squeezing them tight before opening them and trapping Illusen in her blank gaze. “but most importantly, I thought about you.” 

The air rushed out of Illusen’s lungs. Jhudora’s eyes were empty yet intense. “Me?” She repeated. Jhudora nodded. 

“You. Our petty feud. Back then, you were a prominent presence in my life. When you left to join Fyora’s court, I didn’t know how to cope.” She paused, frowning slightly. “You occupied my thoughts more often than I’d like to admit.” Illusen felt her heart skip. She didn’t know whether it was due to fear, apprehension, relief, or some foreign emotion she’d rather not entangle herself with. 

“The more I thought about our feud, the less I found myself able to hate you. I suppose it was due to my current environment at the time sapping my energy, but my hatred for you seeped out of me. After Faerieland fell and reparations began, I was sent to reside in this cave overlooking the promontory. When I thought about you, I felt no anger, no hatred. You were a mere name in my mind.” 

Illusen stood, feeling her stomach flip and tumble as her heart shot into her throat, and enveloped Jhudora in a crushing hug. She ignored the immediate stiffening of Jhudora’s body as she wrapped her arms around her thin form. The hug was awkward, but Illusen knew apologetic words couldn’t mend the rift between them. 

She pulled back, resting her hands on Jhudora’s shoulders. Her face was stricken with shock and her body was as stiff as a plank. The loud pop of a bursting bubble jolted them both out of their state of mutual incomprehension. Jhudora freed herself from Illusen’s embrace and tended to her concoction. Feeling bold, she set a hand on Jhudora’s shoulder and smiled when her body tensed once more until her touch. 

“Why are you so insistent on touching me?” Jhudora kept her attention on her cauldron. Illusen observed the pair of dark purple wings sprouting from her back. They folded rigidly against her back like a protective shield. 

“Do you not like it?” Illusen bit back a giggle as Jhudora growled in annoyance.

“I can’t say I’m used to it.” Her words weren’t a revelation, but her tame reaction was altogether unexpected. Illusen expected a firm, resounding "no" coupled with a biting glare thrown her way and an insult to match. When she received nothing but a placid answer and the quiet sound of crackling wood, she knew that Jhudora had changed for good. 

“I’m guessing the warden didn’t give you many hugs in prison?” Her attempt at a joke was feeble, at best. Jhudora cleared her throat. 

“No, hugs and all forms of physical contact were forbidden. Rumour was that a few years back, there was a faerie who could electrocute on contact.” She tapped the wooden spoon against the side of the cauldron. The sound of wood hitting solid metal reminded Illusen of the giant brass bells that rang every day at noon. 

“I’ve no way of confirming whether that rumour was true or simply a paranoid falsehood, but lack of physical contact made quite a few faeries go mad.” She stood up straight and stretched her back. The popping of her spine and shoulders made Illusen queasy. 

“The insane ones were kept in a madhouse, far away from the general incarcerated populations.” Jhudora huffed and rubbed at her ears. “They were especially active at night. Bedlam was purely nocturnal and the shrieks of the mad made it difficult to get any sort of restful sleep. I had the misfortune of being located near Bedlam. It was impossible to rest so I remained awake, staring at the ceiling and passing the long hours by thinking.” 

“That’s horrible.” Illusen said. Jhudora blew a strand of hair from her face. When it fell back down and eclipsed her vision, she tucked it behind her ear. 

“Nadezhda ran a slum and she knew it.” She grumbled. “Fyora knew about Nadezhda’s scheming and exploitation, but she was powerless to intervene.” 

“She pulled you out of there.” 

“Because the dungeons were destroyed. If Faerieland remained in the clouds, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” Jhudora gave a wicked smirk and barked out a humourless laugh that soon morphed into violent coughing. Illusen reached out a hand to pat Jhudora’s back but retracted it at the last second. 

“If Fyora hadn’t advocated for my release and subsequent exile, I might still be chained to the wall.” She said, clearing her throat and taking a few deep breaths once the coughing subsided. A dark shadow passed over her face, gone too quick for Illusen to dwell on it. “I could be dead.” 

Illusen face split into an expression of dread. “Jhudora, don’t say that.” 

“I’m being realistic.” Jhudora frowned. “You know well enough that the dungeons have a high mortality rate.” 

“But that doesn’t mean you would have _died_ down there! Fyora would’ve intervened!” 

“You sound so certain that she would’ve.” 

“Because I _know her_ , Jhudora! Fyora would never stand for the death of innocents.” 

Jhudora flashed a small, rare smile. “We weren’t innocent. None of us were.” Illusen chewed her tongue. 

“Though you may know otherwise now,” She said, cutting Illusen off before she could open her mouth. “I was portrayed as an impenitent, callous murderer. My death would have invoked country-wide rejoicing.” 

“I refuse to believe that.” Illusen set her mouth in a firm line. Frustration bubbled inside her as Jhudora brushed off her concern with a lazy glance as she returned to her brewing. 

“Then you are naive.” She barely heard Jhudora’s uttered words, but they cut deep into her heart and twisted her very soul. 

That Jhudora was so willing to disregard her apparent care for her wellbeing was disheartening. It wasn’t naive of her to hope for the best in people, but it was her hubris that imprisoned Jhudora. Only karmic justice could be so ironic yet so heartless when it came down to righting past wrongs. 

“I may have believed you to be callous before, Jhudora, but I don’t believe it now. What you did for Baelia was selfless.” She saw Jhudora wrinkle her nose in disgust. “Not everyone would have agreed to do such a thing, you know.” 

“The circumstances that surrounded Baelia’s plea were unfortunate.” Jhudora said, voice monotonous. “I am confident in my abilities. She came to me because I was unprecedented. To go to anyone else for help would be foolish.” 

The corner of Illusen’s lip quirked up in amusement. Even when they were young girls, Jhudora had a habit of undermining praise, especially when it complimented her character. She wanted to be known for her magical abilities, her penchant for sorcery and potion brewing, never as a selfless or honest Faerie. 

“My point stands. You accepted her plea.” She suppressed a triumphant smirk when Jhudora reared around in annoyance, mouth bared in a sneer, and stomped into her personal space to jab a twig-like finger into her brawny shoulder. 

“She would have _died!_ Don’t you understand?” She hissed out, eyes seething with venom. 

“I do understand.” Illusen said and carefully removed the finger digging into her shoulder. “Though you refuse to acknowledge the compassion in your act, it was a humane thing to do. Because of you, Baelia’s still with us.” 

Jhudora recoiled as if she’d been slapped. Illusen felt immense sympathy for her; Jhudora hadn’t felt genuine kindness or any sort of benevolence since she was imprisoned. She was willing to bet that it had been a lot longer than Jhudora would ever let on. 

“Don’t talk like you care about me.” Jhudora snarled and took a step back as Illusen reached out a hand to gently touch her cheek. 

“I want us to be friends again, Judy.” 

“Don’t call me that.” She growled as Illusen stepped closer. 

“Wouldn’t it be nice to be friends again? We could put the past behind us and move forward.” Illusen’s eyes glimmered as she smiled. “Tabula rasa. Isn’t that what you used to say?”

“If you think that a century of hatred can be erased in a second, you’re wrong.” Jhudora’s back was flushed against the cold cave wall. Her fists shook as she clenched them. Illusen saw the tip of the sharp incisor peek out from behind Jhudora’s upper lip as it curled up in a sneer. 

“But I’m willing to try, Jhudora. I was wrong before and I realise that now. Let me try and mend the past.” Jhudora glare grew more heated as time passed. Illusen realized that Jhudora resembled a cornered animal, and she the predator. She took a hasty step back. 

“You’re doing this to mollify your hyperactive conscience.” She shook her head. The accusation hurt, but it wasn’t entirely wrong. Her initial visit had been to soothe her conscience. Her current visit was a result of rectification. 

“I’m here because I want to amend things. My life wasn’t the same without you, and I know that yours was different without me, too.” 

“And what happens afterwards?” Jhudora’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. Her tone was low and distrustful. “After we make merry and salvage what can be saved?” 

Illusen smiled. “Then we carry on. Remain friends. The same as before.” 

“ _The same as before?_ ” Jhudora mockingly parroted her optimistic spirit. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was incarcerated for seventy years and then exiled shortly after Faerieland stabilized.” She scoffed. “But you want to go back to before. Before our friendship soured, before you began to subtly push me away, or before you left without warning to join Fyora’s court?” 

Jhudora shook with concealed anger. Against all logical thought, Illusen stepped forward and set a hand on her shoulder. She felt Jhudora’s fiery anger seep through her skin and juxtapose the physical coldness of her flesh. 

“Back when we were kids, we made a promise to always stick together.” Illusen mumbled. Jhudora blistered with fury and flattened her hand against the cave wall. Her nails scraped against the stone. 

“We’ve grown up since then. We grew apart; it was inevitable.” She sighed. “I would take it all back if I could: the ostracization, my decision to join Fyora’s court. You were there for me when I needed you to be, yet I ran at the first sight of a thunderstorm.” 

“What do you gain from doing this?” Jhudora’s body was tense under Illusen’s hand. She hadn’t moved from her position against the wall. Her back was flat against the stone surface, her wings uncomfortably sandwiched between a rock and a hard place. “Fyora put you up to it. I could smell her on you the second you walked in.” 

“My first visit was mandated by Fyora.” She confessed. “But I came back of my own violation. I gain nothing but you, Jhudora.” 

She watched Jhudora’s chest rise and fall rapidly as her arm shot up in the arm and came inches from Illusen’s cheek. With a stifled curse, the hand slammed back against the cave wall and Jhudora sank onto the floor beneath. 

“Go.” Illusen wanted to sink down with her and cradle her injured hand. 

“Jhudora--” 

“Get out!” She nearly screamed, her voice hoarse as she clenched her bruising hand into a fist to alleviate the pain. Illusen chewed the inside of her lip as she stared down at Jhudora’s body. She curled in on herself, tucking her hand into the space between her stomach and legs. 

Illusen left Faerieland with a heavy heart and flew back to Meridell as her memory summoned regrets to plague her. 

*

She didn’t return for a week. Past experience taught her that it was best to allow Jhudora to cool off before visiting again. During that week, Illusen remained sequestered in her humble cottage desperately trying not to think about Jhudora yet digging manically through her home for any sign of her. She knew that there wouldn’t be any trace, but she foraged anyway. When she moved in, she had sworn to herself that she wouldn’t allow any remnants of Jhudora linger and adulterate her pristine new life. Tabula rasa, she said. 

Now she frantically dug through scrapbooks, picture books, old letters she’d brought with her from Faerieland. She’d purged Jhudora from her life. She’d burned any pictures, ripped up old letters and even discarded an old doll Jhudora carved for her fiftieth birthday. All she had left was a stitched pincushion the same shade of purple as Jhudora’s hair. It even had the green streak. In the past, she squeezed it in her hands and poked it relentlessly with a pin to alleviate her frustrations. Illusen couldn’t imagine abusing the poor thing now. 

Her house was a mess and her mind remained cluttered. The skies cried with enthusiastic fierceness. The sound of thunder shook the cottage walls. Her plants eagerly soaked up the falling rain. Illusen briefly wondered how Jhudora kept warm in such a thunderstorm. The cave’s mouth was wide and gaping; Jhudora’s set up, shelves, and cauldron were all located near the opening. 

The shift from hating Jhudora to slowly rekindling their lost friendship was jarring. Illusen collapsed into her rocking chair and took in the messy floor littered with scrapbooks, miscellaneous pictures, and letters ripped despairingly out of their yellowing envelopes. She’d been too forward, too bold and frantic. Jhudora would take time to come around. When they were kids, it had taken her months of consistent effort-- “pestering", Jhudora called it-- before she finally broke down all the walls and helped herself to the treasure inside. 

When they were kids, they were nearly inseparable. The matron gave up on keeping them apart after Jhudora transfigured her mug of coffee into a mug of lukewarm toenail soup. Wherever Jhudora was, Illusen found her. Wherever Illusen went, Jhudora followed. 

Illusen slowly rocked back and forth, letting the comforting creak of the floorboards and slow, rhythmic swaying lull her into a state of repose. During their adolescence, their friendship began to change. Illusen became steadfast, stalwart and a paragon of honesty. Jhudora’s magical prowess caught the eyes of many aspiring sorcerers. Unlike Illusen, she didn’t change very much. Jhudora’s snark had aged with her and became her signature brand of drolling deadpan rather than the sharp-tongued lashings of her youth. 

Illusen’s heart sank as she remembered the way Jhudora’s face collapsed in betrayal when she relayed Fyora’s invitation to her. Over seventy years of friendship was destroyed in a matter of seconds. It hardly stung when Jhudora called her every name in the book, but the pain was immeasurable now. 

That night was the first and only time Illusen saw her cry. They sat on the edge of a cliff, their legs dangling over the ledge and their wings splayed out behind them. The sky was streaked with purple and red. Jhudora’s tears fell quickly and abundantly from her eyes, landing on the mossy stone beneath her. No matter how desperately she wiped away her tears and hid her heartbreak behind vulgar insults and a sneering face, the damage had been dealt. 

Illusen remembered vividly how she left Jhudora in a state of despair, her entire body trembling as she muffled her sobs. She’d left their meeting grounds and never went back. It would be another five years before she saw Jhudora again. Those five years passed slowly. Her life was busy yet dignified. Being a member of Fyora’s court gave her a direction that she lacked with Jhudora. 

Illusen gripped the wooden armrest and dug her nails into the veneer. It had all been a lie. Those five years had stressed her beyond belief. She was expected to be a warrior, a lady, and above all else, Fyora’s confidant. Jhudora’s consort with the forbidden arts had been the straw that broke the apis' back and driven her to flee Faerieland and take up a new life for herself far, far away in Meridell. 

The thunder cracked, sending a reverberating boom through the night sky. The glimmering stars were impeded by thick, rolling storm clouds that blanketed the sky in a dark shade of grey. Illusen remembered that it had also rained the day after she spontaneously ended her friendship with Jhudora. The meadows were covered in deep, muddy puddles and every Light faerie lamented the absence of their beloved sun. 

The shrieking winds ripped into the trees surrounding her cottage and send loose leaves smacking against her windows and door. Slowly, Illusen began packing away the memorabilia she’d ransacked in her impetuous frenzy. Scrapbooks and photo albums were stored neatly in their shelves; letters were returned to their respective envelopes and filed away for safe-keeping. A bolt of lightning shot across the sky and disappeared beyond the horizon. She heard the low rumble of thunder soon after.

Jhudora never liked thunderstorms. She never appreciated how the thunder shook the earth below or how bright jolts of lightning exploded across a dark sky in a show of dangerous magnificence. She always protested that the thunder was too loud, the lightning too harsh and that the humidity of the falling rain caused the pages of her books to stick together. 

Illusen loved the rain. To her, precipitation symbolised rebirth. Rain allowed plants to grow and bloom into something miraculous, provided relief after a long drought or the harshness of an all-consuming wildfire. Above all, she relished the feeling of a cool rain shower in the evening, the smell of mist lingering in the air after a generous downpour, and the sparkling drops of dew that clung to green leaves and short blades of grass. 

It was difficult to sustain a fire in this torrential downpour, but she managed. The firewood crackled as the flames slowly ate away at its outer bark. Illusen watched the orange flame dance and shyly peek out from behind the thick logs, only to retreat and gradually lick away the rapidly charing bark. 

Jhudora’s fire was the same shade of purple as her eyes. It flickered and quivered as it spontaneously burst into life, engulfing her hand but never burning her delicate skin. Illusen stared into the orange flames and slowly rocked her chair. Jhudora, she realized, was like a wildfire: dangerous and indomitable. A wildfire spread its destruction quickly and effortlessly as trees, bushes and habitats bowed to its ferocious appetite. From an artistic perspective, a wildfire was also beautiful in the way it glowed a bright red and orange in the far distance. It was nature’s way of resetting the ecosystem.

If Jhudora was a wildfire, then Illusen had to be the gentle downpour that followed. The rain soothed the grievous wounds left by the wildfire, but it also turned the landscape into a dull grey. 

Jhudora rejected a chance to serve as an apprentice to one of the most prestigious enchantresses in all of Faerieland. For one hundred and twenty years, Illusen told herself that Jhudora would have rejected the offer anyway because limelight didn’t suit her, not because she wanted to preserve their friendship. It didn’t matter that the apprenticeship would’ve taken her across Faerieland and away from Illusen for the rest of her life. 

Except it did. 

Illusen stood up from her rocking chair and put out the fire. Tomorrow is another day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trust me


	6. For You, Maybe I'm a Fool, but It's Fun

Before the sun had a chance to rise, Illusen was sitting at the ledge of the cave’s gaping mouth. Jhudora was nowhere to be found, presumably still asleep, and Illusen watched a few early birds swoop from the trees and onto the grass below, tap swiftly on the ground with their feet and snatch the unassuming worm once it peaked its head out. 

The early morning air was brisk and erupted tight goosebumps all over her exposed skin. Her usual attire did little to combat the cold nip in the air. In Faerieland, autumn had the unruly habit of turning cold earlier than anticipated. Winter was on its way, she could smell it in the crisp breeze. 

Illusen watched the sunrise in silent awe. The sky turned a rich orange, similar to Jhudora’s Golden Kyrii Apple potion, and the sun was obstructed by the high mountains, casting long smears of bright sunlight across the morning sky like an angelic halo. She swung her legs back and forth, taking a deep breath and feeling reinvigorated by the raw, unadulterated presence of nature around her. 

Jhudora emerged, disheveled and with heavy bags under her eyes, when the sun was a quarter of its ascent into the sky. Illusen spun around as Jhudora gawked at her in incomprehension. Slowly, she got to her feet and stood in the opening of the cave, allowing herself to be observed by a hypercritical eye. 

Jhudora pushed a lock of long, purple hair out of her face and returned to her spellbook. She flipped it open, paying Illusen no attention, and muttered a brief incantation under her breath. It was Illusen’s turn to gawk in visible incomprehension as Jhudora’s hair transformed from a disorderly tangle into long, unknotted tresses. When she turned around and regarded Illusen with a look of minor annoyance, the bags under her eyes were less pronounced, her lips less cracked and her cheeks less sunken. 

Illusen shut her mouth once she felt it began to droop open. She glanced towards Jhudora’s wrists and found them completely bare and as thin as before. She cleared her throat and ignored Jhudora’s frown. 

“I didn’t know you were capable of restorative magic.” The long sigh that hissed its way out of Jhudora’s mouth wasn’t exaggerated. Regardless, it didn’t dampen Illusen’s spirits. 

“I don’t have a penchant for it. Restorative magic was the first branch of white magic I was forced to learn when Fyora expelled me from Faerieland.” Jhudora grabbed a matchbox and plucked a match from its dwindling brethren, lit it and threw it onto the makeshift pile of twigs and snapped branches. 

Illusen furrowed her eyebrows. “Forced to learn? I thought you rejected all offers of apprenticeship.” Her tongue worked quicker than her brain once more. She regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth. He glare Jhudora sent her way could have turned the firewood to ash. 

“I did.” 

She tapped her fingers against her thigh and resisted the urge to chew on the inside of her cheek. She had already made an unfortunate blunder within minutes of talking to Jhudora. If she was lucky, Jhudora’s patience would stretch to a generously thin degree and allow her to accomplish her motive. 

“Then why dabble in restorative magic?” She asked, tone as light and gentle as she could make it. Jhudora gave another loud, long, not-quite-exaggerated sigh and gestured Illusen to peek into the spellbook with a rigid swipe of her hand. Illusen did indeed look, but the symbols, runes, and incantations were foreign to her. 

“I’m no cleric.” Jhudora said, sensing her bewilderment. “I can stitch together small cuts, scrapes and shallow lacerations if needed, but I prioritize what little magic I’m allowed to perform into satiation spells.” Illusen blinked, feeling thoroughly befuddled. 

“Tell me about this place.” Her brain shifted her tongue into gear. Jhudora raised an eyebrow. “The cave. Your castle.” Her mouth felt dry and her cheek ran hot. “The waterfall.” 

If Jhudora noticed her discomfort, she didn’t remark on it. “The castle isn’t so much a castle as it is a dilapidated structure. It’s missing more than half of its hallways, room and walls, leaving a gaping hole in its side for all to see into. Curiously, the tallest towers all remain untouched.” 

Illusen shuffled her feet, staring at the ground and pondering Jhudora’s words. “And the waterfall?” Unwanted memories of a pale back softened by moonlight and long purple hair popped into her mind. 

“Fyora and a squadron of water faeries put it there. It connects to the main river and gives the water faeries more room to roam.” She shrugged, apathetic about it all. “They leave me alone so I leave them alone.” 

“Aren’t you lonely?” 

“Should I be?” Illusen played with her hands as the firewood cracked and engulfed the cave in a warm, orange light. “I’m used to this lifestyle.” 

“What a horrible thing to be used to.” 

“Maybe for you earth faeries who believe the world ends when someone doesn't indulge in your pleasantries.” Illusen tried her best not to frown at Jhudora’s flippant attitude. It was an onerous task indeed. 

“Well, I’m just trying to understand why you insist on remaining in this cave when there’s a world fit for exploring. You don’t seem particularly happy here, Jhudora.” 

Wordlessly, Jhudora knelt beside her makeshift pile of firewood and gingerly retrieved a single, short twig free of blemishes and burn marks. Illusen’s heart seized in panic when the roaring flames licked at and nearly scorched pale purple skin. Jhudora stood up and halfheartedly flung the twig across the cave entrance and out its gaping maw. 

She gave no response when Illusen let out a small, sharp gasp. Rather than sail pitifully out the opening and land somewhere down far below, the twig bounced off thin air and back into the cave before landing at Jhudora’s feet. Illusen immediately rushed to the cave opening, waving her hands and grasping at the invisible barrier that obstructed the twig’s flight. 

Jhudora watched her flail around in bemusement. She picked up the twig and sent it flying once more toward the cave’s mouth. It bounced against nothing and laid uselessly on the cave floor. 

“It’s enchanted.” Illusen said, picking up the twig. She turned it around every which way, inspecting it closely for any sign of Jhudora’s magic. It had no runes, no arcane symbols and it even lacked the reflective sheen commonly found on enchanted items. It was a brown, slightly dry twig. 

“That’s just ordinary firewood.” Jhudora said. “Nothing special about it.” Illusen tossed the twig back into the fire and watched it slowly reduce to ash. It burned normally. 

“I don’t understand.” She moved to the lip of the cave and turned around, her wings fluttering in anticipation as she faced her back to Faerieland’s expansive wilderness. She moved her hand in, out and around the space before her and felt nothing but the cool air that lingered after a storm. 

“Have you ever caged a bird?” 

Illusen stopped her flailing. “Of course not! Birds should be free to fly where they please. To cage them would be an intentionally cruel act.” 

“What if the bird was a threat to the rest of the population? If you had the power to cage it and keep the rest safe, would you?” 

“Why are you asking me this?” Illusen swallowed the growing lump in her throat. 

Calmly, Jhudora turned and walked toward the cave opening. She stood mere inches away from Illusen. If Illusen were to hold up a hand, she’d be able to touch Jhudora’s shoulder and tuck the intrusive lock of purple hair behind her ear. She couldn’t feel her body heat or the coldness that radiated off her skin. 

Jhudora brought up a hand and made a move to reach out and caress Illusen’s burning cheek. She let her eyes fall shut, her breath coming out in short puffs. When she didn’t feel the icy sensation of Jhudora’s fingertips gracing her face, she snapped her eyes open and her soft breaths of anticipation became short and rigid with consternation.

The pads of Jhudora’s fingers were pressed firmly against the invisible barrier. It shimmered slightly, as all enchanted objects did, and when she pulled her hand back to her side, the sheen disappeared. It reappeared and shook with intensity when Jhudora pressed her entire hand against its indiscernible surface. 

Illusen’s mouth parted as she took a cautionary step back and assessed the sorcery before her. The barrier stretched across the length of the cave’s gaping mouth and embedded itself deep within the walls, leaving no exploitable area free of magic. She saw Jhudora’s lips move as she spoke but could not hear what was said. Without hesitation, she lifted her hand and placed it against Jhudora’s, seeking out the sensation of flesh through the boundary. She felt the hard surface of the barricade and the sheer power that reverberated within. When Jhudora let her hand fall away so did the barrier. Illusen’s hand met air. 

“I can’t leave even if I wanted to.” Jhudora said. Illusen crossed the threshold and took a seat by the crackling fire. 

“Three guesses to whose idea it was.” She didn’t need three guesses. She knew with absolute certainty whose magic was involved. 

“Fyora.” Illusen whispered. Jhudora hummed in assent. 

“My gilded cage.” She drawled. “It’s a dome that encompasses my entire bluff and part of the waterfall. I’m free to roam within its barriers, but I can’t leave. Fyora and her cabinet of sorcerers created this bubble in a day, though it was no easy feat. It exhausted them for over a month.” 

Illusen didn’t know what to say. “They put you in here after Faerieland collapsed, didn’t they?” 

“Yes. At first, I was limited to just this cave, but as the years increased so did Fyora’s magic barrier. It hasn’t expanded in some time now, but the area I’ve been granted is more generous than I could have initially imagined.” 

The cauldron rested uselessly in the far corner of the cave. It was strange to see it empty of colourful, bubbling liquid. The fire snapped thin branches and consumed them with gusto, warming Illusen’s body and face. Jhudora kept her attention fixated on the tome in front of her, eyebrows slightly furrowed as she perused page after page. 

The silence wasn’t bursting with a sense of camaraderie, but it didn't have an undertone of hostility, either. Illusen leaned her back against the cave wall, inadvertently flattening her wings as she did so, and took to observing the various paraphernalia tucked away on hastily fastened shelves and the lone bookcase. 

The herbs Jhudora grew weren’t as vibrant as she remembered. Their leaves and spines were an unhealthy shade of grey and seemed to wilt as a cool breeze blew through the cave. Illusen stood and rubbed her arms to generate some warmth. With a tender hand, she cupped the greying herbs and blew a short breath across their drying surface. The leaves gradually unfurled and became imbued with a healthy, green hue. Satisfied with her reinvigoration, Illusen relinquished the herbs and met Jhudora’s carefully blank expression with a smile of her own. 

Jhudora turned back to her reading without a word. It was a small victory for Illusen. 

Over many months, she accumulated multiple small victories and held each one close to her heart. Jhudora had mellowed with time and Illusen learned which lines to cross and which to stay far away from. As autumn faded into a harsh winter, Illusen’s visits increased from once a week to twice a week to nearly every day if she could help it. 

Not every visit was a victory. Sometimes their relationship stagnated; other times it blossomed imperceptibly, but it never regressed to a feral state of hatred like it was a century ago. She didn’t know what she’d do if their fledgling friendship deteriorated into resentment. She couldn’t find it in her heart to hate Jhudora as vehemently as she once did. 

With its timely arrival, spring brought along seedlings, baby birds and bountiful knowledge pertaining to Jhudora. Illusen learned through many short but meaningful conversations that Jhudora worked most efficiently at night, that her favourite season was spring because the temperatures fluctuated the least, and that her favourite flowers were the tubular cyclamen that took root and germinated during the autumn, blossomed during winter and then faded with the spring. 

Illusen didn’t let her spirits dampen when she arrived with small daisies, daffodils and a single white gardenia woven intricately into her hair and each flower’s meaning flew far over Jhudora’s head. She drew the line when Illusen approached her with the intent to weave the same flowers into her long, purple hair. 

When spring changed to summer, Illusen found herself spending a majority of her time in Jhudora’s cave than at her secluded cottage in Meridell. She remained in Meridell during the early morning hours and evenings, but the midday and afternoons were spent idly conversing with Jhudora. A total of eleven months had elapsed since her initial visit. Illusen learned more about Jhudora in those same months than she had in over seventy years. 

Autumn came early. Illusen watched the trees change from green to orange while perched at the cave’s opening. She took a bite of the sandwich she prepared early that morning and savoured the flavour of the fresh, crisp greens she cultivated in her backyard garden. 

“I’ve never seen you eat.” She said once her sandwich was gone and Jhudora returned from her brief excursion down to the waterfall. She tried to ignore the sheen of perspiration that dotted Jhudora’s forehead and the haggard rise and fall of her chest as she sucked in breaths of air. 

Jhudora hummed in accord. “You’ve just now noticed?” 

“Well, I thought you ate after I left, but I’ve practically been spending all my time here and I’ve never seen you eat, much less prepare a meal.” 

Jhudora nearly dropped the heavy water pail to the ground and stood up straight, rolling her shoulders to alleviate the soreness. “I don’t eat.” 

Illusen blinked. “What do you mean? Everyone needs to eat.” 

“Not me.” The look Jhudora shot her was sardonic. “I bet you’re wondering how I’m still alive.” 

“As would anyone.” Illusen defended herself. “Fyora told me that she sends regular patrols up to your promontory to buttress your supply of food and water.” 

“You’ve been here for a while.” Jhudora swept her gaze over Illusen and focused on transferring the water from the pail into the cauldron without making a mess. “Have you seen any patrols? Sent by Fyora or otherwise?” 

“No one.” Illusen rubbed at her face, thoroughly perplexed. “But Fyora said that the patrols always returned empty-handed and that you accepted whatever offerings they gave you.” She helped Jhudora tip the pail over the lip of the cauldron and fill it with water. Jhudora set the pail aside and lit the fire. Within minutes the bottom of the cauldron spouted tiny, boiling bubbles. 

“Then either you were lied to or Fyora was sorely mistaken about the candour of some of her court.” 

Illusen chewed her lip and sighed. She couldn’t imagine Fyora lying to her, even though she had withheld the truth on more than one occasion. But an open, bald-faced lie? That didn’t align with Fyora’s disposition. 

“What would some faeries have to gain by lying to Fyora?” 

Jhudora shrugged. “Political standing. The Queen’s favour. Sympathy from their peers. The satisfaction that comes with starving a notorious criminal. Use your imagination; the list is endless.” 

“Jhudora, I’ll admit that I do strive to acknowledge the good in everyone, but don’t you think that intentional starvation would be inane?” 

“Potentially, but I’m not going to bother denying that there have been, and always will be, malevolent individuals residing within Faerieland’s walls.” Jhudora fixated her with an intense look. “They’re the ones who scorn social exclusion and embrace more destructive means of expulsion. Starvation is merely the tip of the iceberg.” 

“You talk as if you’ve encountered these unsavoury individuals.” The idea was immensely ominous and rather unsettling. Jhudora could be callous and icy, but she wasn’t black-hearted. 

“Not personally, but rumours circulate faster than the truth, especially in the dungeons.” She clicked her tongue when Illusen frowned. “Believe what you will.” 

“How do you sustain yourself, then, if not with physical food and water?” No wonder Jhudora looked so thin. Magic sustenance could never fully replace tangible food and the nutrients it provided. 

“Satiation spells.” Jhudora said. “I don’t feel hunger or thirst.” 

“Just because you don’t feel the negative effects doesn’t mean you don’t need to eat.” 

“It took some time to desensitize myself and acclimate to a lifestyle devoid of physical sustenance.” Jhudora plucked a few dried herbs from their sprigs and dropped them into the boiling cauldron. “Though I felt physically sated, my body was accustomed to receiving one physical meal a day. I experienced cravings for some of the strangest foods, some of which I had only read about in textbooks.” 

“And now?” Illusen watched her agitate the cauldron with the wooden stirrer. Jhudora shook her head. 

“Not as often as before, but there are times I reminisce or experience a sensation that elicits a childhood memory.” She glared daggers when Illusen’s mouth curled into a sympathetic smile. 

“Well, what do you say to a picnic? I could prepare some of the dishes you craved and--” 

“No.” Jhudora cut her off with a note of finality. “Thank you, but no.” Illusen blinked. Those two words still sounded foreign in Jhudora’s voice. She liked to think that her mannerisms were rubbing off on her. “I would strongly prefer if you ceased all talk of food from this point onwards.” 

“All right, Jhudora. No picnic.” She wisely repressed her comment about Jhudora looking skeletal and how her clavicle appeared more prominent than it had in the past.

Jhudora managed an expression that wasn’t quite a smile but also not a sneer. Illusen counted it as her small victory for the day. 

*

Weeks later, Illusen learned that the invisible barrier did more than isolate Jhudora from Faerieland: it also served as protection from the harsh elements. A shock of lightning flashed through thick, grey clouds and the low rumbling of thunder was boisterous enough to jostle tiny pebbles that chipped off the stone walls.

Illusen sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and watched raindrops splash harmlessly against the barrier. The cave’s interior was as cold as the outside. The fire Jhudora stoked in preparation provided warmth and light when the storm cloud obstructed the sun. 

Her visits with Jhudora weren’t coupled with a trip to Fyora’s castle as they had been previously. It had been over six months since she ceased her visits to Faerie City altogether. She didn’t feel the need to report her progress back to Fyora or alert her of potential scheming because her visitations were assuredly friendly. 

She would like to label her relationship with Jhudora as a friendship. In an ideal world, they were friends. Reality was never that kind. If not friends, then perhaps close acquaintances? 

Illusen cleared her throat. “Are we friends?” Jhudora stopped her scrawling, pressing the pad of her index finger firmly against the surface of her quill. A drop of black ink slid from the sharp nib and fell onto the parchment below. 

“I don’t know.” Jhudora dipped the quill in the inkwell and hovered it above her roll of parchment. She stared at the wall in front of her, never pressing the nib onto paper, chewing the corner of her lip. 

“I would like us to be.” Illusen said those words nearly a year earlier, but this time it held substantial meaning. Jhudora sighed and rinsed the ink off her quill, drying it and setting it aside. 

“Does it matter if we’re friends or not?” She asked, rubbing her forehead. 

“Of course it matters.” It mattered more than anything in the world. While it seemed inconsequential on a cosmic scale, mending her relationship with Jhudora was her way of rectifying those last five years of friendship. They were awful to each other, truly awful. 

“I still think you’re doing this for Fyora.” The suspicious accusation made the corners of Illusen’s lips curl up. She shook her head. 

“It’s nearly been a year, Jhudora.” 

She clicked her tongue. “You don’t know how determined that woman can be.” 

“Trust me, I have an idea. I practically lived with her for under two years, remember?”

Jhudora’s eyebrow gave a bemused quirk. “And how was she?” 

“Fyora was as understanding and patient as she could be.” Illusen blanched in remembrance. “However, I didn’t have the best relationship with some of her cabinet members.” 

Jhudora snorted. “Let me guess: Iona, the cook; Laris, the court jester; Nessa and Dalia, the head enchanters and Brynhild, the weapons master.” 

Illusen forcibly closed her mouth. It shouldn’t have surprised her that Jhudora knew so much when the cabinet members were treated as celebrities across Faerieland. 

“All correct.” She said and Jhudora made the same expression as before. It wasn’t a smile, nor was it a scowl or a sneer and it didn’t show her teeth, but it made Illusen’s heart do strange flips and her stomach clench and flutter. It was a strange reaction that made her inhale and hold the breath of air in her lungs as she pondered her body’s mystifying response. 

“Iona prepared the meals for the dungeons. Every so often, she would meander down to my cell and spit in my food before it was served to me.” 

Illusen raised a brow. “Just you?” 

“I wouldn’t be surprised either way. Iona is spiteful and while she had no reason to single me out, it wouldn’t be out of her character.” 

“Well, what about the rest of them? I’m surprised you mentioned Nessa and Dalia.” 

Jhudora’s mouth pressed into a thin line then curled into a scowl. “You’d be better off giving their jobs to an alkenore. The air in their heads would be more than enough to float Faerieland back into the clouds.” 

“Jhudora, don’t you think you’re being unnecessarily crude?” 

“I have my reasons.” She rubbed at her face and rolled up the parchment once the ink had thoroughly dried. “Are you still experiencing nightmares?” 

Illusen blinked and let the change in topic slide. “Not as often as before, but sometimes. Why do you ask?” 

Jhudora grunted in acknowledgement and grabbed a thin, silver vial from its holder. When she tilted the vial, its contents sloshed against the glass and shimmered with reflective particles. The vial itself was no bigger than Jhudora’s pinky finger. It was corked at the top with an equally small stopper. 

“It’s meant to ward away bad dreams. The creator named it ‘A Drop of Moonlight’ for obvious reasons.” Illusen gingerly took the offered vial and held it in the palm of her hand. 

“When did you make this?” 

Jhudora shrugged. “A few days ago. You had bags underneath your eyes; I thought your nightmares flared up again.” Illusen’s hands instinctively went to her eyes and met smooth skin. “I would have brewed it earlier, but I lacked the necessary ingredients. It’s enough for one strong dosage.” 

Illusen’s heart swelled and she had difficulty keeping the grin off her face. “Thank you, Jhudora.” The noncommittal grunt she got in response did little to aid in her efforts.

She took the potion later that night. The rain stopped falling by the time she left Jhudora’s promontory in high spirits and a cool breeze drifted her back to Meridell. Her cottage seemed especially secluded when the days grew shorter and the night grew longer. 

The potion, “A Drop of Moonlight” as Jhudora called it, was completely tasteless and odourless but left a tingling sensation on her tongue and the back of her throat when she swallowed what little there was. Jhudora hadn’t exaggerated the potion’s efficiency; within seconds Illusen felt drowsy and ambled towards her bed. Her eyes were shut before her head hit the pillow. 

*

Despite the brief respite during the evening, the storm continued on the very next day and strengthened its intensity as the day went on. By mid-morning, the entire sky was covered in a thick layer of grey clouds. The sun didn’t have a chance to grace Neopia with a proper sunrise. 

Illusen’s wings flew her across Meridell and into Faerieland within the hour. Held tightly in her grip was a parcel bundled carefully with twine and wrapped in old newspapers. She’d arrived later in the morning than usual and Jhudora’s cave was utterly still. The fire crackled every so often. Illusen’s feet touched down on the cave floor. Her ears twitched as they picked up the sound of faint, airy whispering. 

She set the parcel down on Jhudora’s cluttered worktable, anxiously making her way to the back of the cave. Her heart shot into her throat as the furtive whispering abruptly ceased and became a chilling shriek of terror. Illusen forced her way past the heavy, obstructive shelves and paled considerably, her shout of concern dying in her throat and coming out as a hoarse choking sound. 

Jhudora was still, her cheek rested against the cave’s cold floor and her leathery wings splayed out behind her, stiff and unyielding. Her eyes were shut in blissful sleep. An empty potion bottle lay shattered next to her, its contents seeping a colourful mess across the floor. 

Illusen could hear her heart drumming in her ears. The back of her neck felt hot. She knelt down and cupped Jhudora’s cheek in her hand, lifting her head and wincing at the dark, unsightly bruise that formed on her cheekbone. 

Illusen’s head jerked up when a soft gasp cut through the tense silence. Before her stood a demure faerie dressed entirely in grey with hair to match. Her feet angled inward, much like a pigeon, as she shuffled them and kept her gaze planted firmly on the floor. The stubby protrusions that sprouted from her back sent a jolt of recognition through her. 

“Baelia.” Illusen whispered, keeping her eyes on the faerie in front of her while gingerly easing Jhudora’s head into her lap. Baelia perked up at the sound of her name and greeted Illusen with a bashful smile. 

She held a rag in one hand and a bucket in the other. Wordlessly, Illusen scooted Jhudora’s unconscious body away from the spill and tucked her coriaceous wings against her back. Baelia knelt, dunked the rag in the bucket of water, wrung it dry and mopped up the spilled potion. When the spill was thoroughly cleaned, Baelia set aside the rag and bucket and turned her attention to Jhudora. 

She tucked a lock of Jhudora’s hair behind her ear with a fluid wave of her hand. An unsavoury sensation bubbled in the pit of Illusen’s stomach and rose into her throat where it burned like acrid bile. She unconsciously tightened her jaw when Baelia’s fingers moved like wisps over Jhudora’s forehead, touching the cool skin with the pads of her fingertips. 

“She hasn’t been sleeping well.” Baelia said, resting her hand on Jhudora’s upper arm. Illusen’s eyebrow twitched when her thumb brushed across Jhudora’s arm. “The dark circles around her eyes have only intensified these past few days.” 

Illusen managed a tight-lipped smile. “Have you been visiting her long?” 

Baelia shook her head. “Not at all, only a few years or so. I saw her gathering water by the river close to my house. I wouldn’t have known she was here otherwise.” Illusen stretched out her legs and inspected the bruise more carefully. It grew darker than before and coloured the surrounding area a dark blue. 

“Pardon my temerity, but I thought that you both hated each other?” Baelia’s cheeks bloomed with colour when Illusen looked up and gave her another forced smile. 

“We did.” She shook her head. “No, _I_ did, but we’ve made amends over the past year. We don’t hate each other anymore.” 

“Oh, that’s wonderful to hear.” Baelia reached over and brushed Jhudora’s bruising cheek with the back of her fingers. Illusen bit down hard on her tongue and inhaled a slow, deep breath through her nose. She held it in her lungs and released it without urgency. 

“I’m not sure if she told you, but Jhudora did me a great service. She didn’t have to go along with my wistful whims, but she did and I’m forever thankful for it.” 

Illusen watched with constrained impassivity as Baelia turned over Jhudora’s hand and traced the lines of her palm with her fingers. She struggled to keep her eye from twitching when Baelia sighed and squeezed the hand in hers. 

“She had difficulty coping after you left, you know.” Illusen raised her eyes and stared. “She sequestered herself away the day after you officially joined Fyora’s court.” 

“How do you know about that?” 

Baelia smiled though it didn’t reach her eyes. “You made the front page of the press. You were all Faerieland talked about for weeks. Didn’t you know?” 

“No,” Illusen licked her lips. “I tried my best to stay away from gossip and baseless rumours.” 

“They found you anyway. After that, Jhudora never mentioned you again and I knew better than to bring it up. There was no point in digging up the past when the present mattered the most.” 

Illusen forced herself to take another deep inhale. She looked down at Jhudora’s head lying supine in her lap and placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the clavicle protrude through cold skin. 

“She talked about me before?” She asked. 

“Other than her spellbooks, potions and magic, you were all she talked about.” Baelia said. “She hasn’t eaten in so long. I know she sustains herself through satiation spells, but her health has been steadily declining what with the barrier--” She trailed off and sniffed, rubbing her nose and mouth with her hand. Illusen chewed the inside of her cheek. 

“What about the barrier?” Jhudora didn’t like it when it was brought up in conversation. Whenever Illusen attempted to weasel information out of her, Jhudora would rebuke her with terse answers and ambiguous shrugs. 

When she remained silent, Illusen pressed on. “Baelia, please, if it concerns Jhudora’s health then you must tell me.” 

“It’s only an observation.” Illusen waited with bated breath as Baelia released her own. Jhudora didn’t stir even as Illusen shifted her legs to redirect the flow of blood. 

“Jhudora can’t use magic.” Illusen’s eyes narrowed in befuddlement. “She can brew potions, yes, but she can’t manipulate large sums of magic to defend herself or enchant items. I fear that the barrier serves as a hamper to stymie the flow of Jhudora’s magic.” 

“No,” Illusen breathed out, shaking her head in disbelief. “That can’t be true; I’ve seen her use magic before. She stitched up a hole in my friend’s backpack.” 

“It may be that small amounts of magic remain undetected by the barrier, so long as it's used beneficially.” Baelia’s lip twitched in somber recollection. “Two years ago, she tried to forcibly evict a group of meddlesome JubJubs from her cave. The fire engulfed her hands only to stifle out in mere seconds. There was a moment where I hoped my theory was wrong, but after seeing the flames smother itself and the sheer fatigue that bedeviled Jhudora for days afterwards, there was no doubt left in my mind that the barrier was meant to suppress her magic.” 

“The people deemed her a threat soon after you fled Faerieland. When she was sentenced to a century in the dungeons, they bound her wrists with heavy gauntlets fashioned from cold iron.” 

Fyora had cuffed her with cold iron when they captured that malevolent creature, yet Jhudora managed to envelop her hands with purple fire, summon candlelight and bind the monstrosity to herself. Illusen stilled. Jhudora forced her to hide her spellbook in Meridell so that it wouldn’t be seized. 

“The spellbook!” Illusen cried out, accidentally jostling Jhudora’s body. Baelia placed a protective hand on Jhudora’s diaphragm and nestled her arm underneath Jhudora’s neck for support. When Illusen jumped up and rushed out of the small enclosure, Jhudora was safety nestled in Baelia’s lap. 

The spellbook was covertly stashed among Jhudora’s other books. She grabbed it and flew back to Baelia, only stumbling a little as the tips of her shoes grazed the floor. She thrust the spellbook into Baelia’s arms and waited as she flipped through its contents, taking great care not to accidentally spill any of the dry leaves Jhudora fashioned into impromptu bookmarks. The sight of pressed leaves made Illusen smile, happy that Jhudora even bothered to read a book she wrote. 

Baelia’s eyebrows knit together as she paused on a page blanketed with Jhudora’s messy scrawl. Her lips moved silently as her eyes flowed over the page, only stopping to decipher Jhudora’s many notes and corrections before continuing.

“It’s no wonder why she collapsed.” She shut the book and handed it back to Illusen, who cradled it close to her chest. “She’s been brewing potions non-stop; just one of these solutions takes multiple days to create. I’ve never seen her so frenzied before.”

Illusen didn’t let her rampant concern show on her face. The tiny flask filled with silver liquid likely took Jhudora multiple days to brew, nevermind the unsuccessful attempts or time spent decocting herbs and plant material. All that effort for a few drops of potent cure. 

Baelia studied Illusen carefully. “She made you something, didn’t she?” Illusen blinked and made a move to shake her head. “Don’t lie, Illusen. It isn’t in your nature to lie.” 

“She called it ‘A Drop of Moonlight’.” The truth spilled out of her like a deluge. “I didn’t ask for a remedy, but she gave it to me and told me I should take it to prevent nightmares.” Baelia’s eyes glimmered with unsaid questions but kept quiet and focused her attention on Jhudora’s wings. 

She rubbed her hand over the surface of the appendage, as if warming it, and gestured for Illusen to do the same. The wing was stone cold and rigid. The joints refused to give an inch and remained impervious to Illusen’s attempts to rub warmth into stiff cartilage and bone. The rich purple hue faded into a darkened colour riddled with unsightly splotches of brown and black near the joints and intensified where the wings fused with Jhudora’s pale skin. 

The pair of wings were tightly situated against Jhudora’s back and layered upon the other as if someone glued them together. Illusen feared what would happen if she tried to force her fingernails underneath the wings and forcibly spring them apart. 

Baelia gazed upon Jhudora’s back, her face forlorn and eyes red and shiny. “She hasn’t flown in a long, long time.” Illusen traced over the thin layer of tissue that connected wing to skin and wondered if Jhudora could still feel through them. “They only remain because her magic is stronger than most. If it had been just anyone in her position…” A choked sob cut off the rest of her sentence. She gripped onto Jhudora for comfort and sniffled as fat tears streamed down her face and wet the collar of Jhudora’s attire. 

Unfortunately, Illusen didn’t have to think hard about the dire implications. She placed a tender hand on Baelia’s shoulder, pulling her onto her shoulder before her wracking sobs could become inconsolable. She stroked her back and hummed a low, consoling tune as Baelia wept into her shoulder. 

For fifty years, Jhudora carried out her days in the same cold, gloomy cave, smeared with infamy and imprisoned by misplaced good intentions. The last half of the century could have been very different if not for Illusen’s knee-jerk reaction. 

Baelia gave one final sniffle and pulled her face out of the crook of Illusen’s neck, wiping her eyes with her back of her hand and clearing her throat. Illusen waved away each of Baelia’s apologies as they fell from her mouth. 

“It’s not your fault.” She said once Baelia was no longer on the verge of collapsing back into a fit of sobs. The urge to tell her the truth-- the whole truth-- crept up on her and grew in intensity with each of her teardrops. Confessing what happened one hundred and twenty years ago would be the morally correct thing to do, but it wouldn’t change the past. 

Baelia’s body shook as a final shudder went through her. She had returned to combing her fingers through Jhudora’s hair. Illusen kept her hands to herself and held them stiffly by her sides. 

“Jhudora told me about your wish.” She mumbled. Baelia didn’t flinch nor did she look up from her task. “She wasn’t incarcerated because of you.” How she hated when words stubbornly stuck in her throat and refused to form coherent sentences. Telling the truth had never been the monumental task it was now.

Illusen swallowed and tapped her fingers against her thigh. “I saw the latter half of the alchemical ritual and jumped to conclusions. I alerted Fyora shortly after and the rest was history.” Baelia gazed upon her with blank eyes and Illusen feared the worst when her lips formed a watery smile. 

“I knew you were there, Illusen, hidden behind the trees.” She couldn’t stop her lips from parting or keep her jaw tightly clenched, flabbergasted as she was. “When Jhudora diverted my magic into my body, my senses were heightened. I could smell the dewdrops and the sweet aroma of fresh spring flowers from miles away; I could hear Jhudora’s breathing and her rapid heartbeat. I heard yours, too, but it wasn’t until Jhudora severed the transmutation chain and deposited my soul back into my body that I regained my ability to see beyond what was directly above me.”

“For a brief moment, I was near omniscient. I could hear everyone’s heartbeat, every intake of breath and feel each aura no matter the distance, but I was so blinded by my desires that I could not foresee or even begin to understand the repercussions of my actions.” Baelia brushed her fingers across Jhudora’s forehead, a forlorn expression on her face. “I was lucky enough to have someone looking out for me. If I had gone to some other sorceress, one who was desperate to prove herself, I don’t know what fate would have befallen me.” 

Jhudora’s conscientiousness made it apparent that alchemical rituals, especially ones of high caliber, would have ended disastrously in the hands of a mediocre sorceress. Illusen traced the stiff cartilage of Jhudora’s wings and poured a century’s worth of raw emotion into her silent apology, gazing intently at the shriveled mass that hung off her back and desperately thanking her for retaining her clemency when the entire world believed she had none. 

“Do you despise me?” Illusen asked. Baelia looked to her and shook her head. 

“Why would I?” 

“I robbed more than a century of freedom from her. Wouldn’t an act like that rightfully elicit hatred?” 

“You’re wrong, Illusen. Some faeries may be quick to assign blame, but in this situation, there’s no clear source of wrongdoing. Do you blame yourself because of your past self’s steadfast disposition?” 

“Jhudora wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t so ardent.” 

“We were both blinded by what we perceived as crucial. For me, it was regaining the magic that was stolen from me. For you, it was maintaining an immaculate conscience.” 

It was more than keeping her conscience pristine. Illusen chewed her bottom lip. A dark part of her had been unearthed after she severed all ties with Jhudora; it wanted to see her atone for her crimes of witchcraft and dark magic. It fed off her enmity and contempt that brewed and eventually bubbled over as the years went on. It festered and seethed and her conscience struggled to suppress it. Illusen remained quiet. There was no point in correcting the truth. 

“We should let her rest. The potion she brewed for you took a fortnight of intense preparation.” Baelia stood up and wrapped Jhudora’s limp arm around her shoulders, tugging her weight onto her back and carrying her out of the small enclosure. 

There was a narrow opening that extended into the ceiling. Illusen followed, ready to intervene should Jhudora stir and slip of Baelia’s shoulders. The cavity revealed the expansive, dilapidated structure of the castle keep, half eroded by harsh winds. The distant mountains were visible from the gaping hole in the side of the keep. 

Baelia readjusted the weight on her shoulders and led Illusen down a hallway lined with miscellaneous wooden furniture, faded pictures that barely hung from a rusty nail and walls that wheezed and spat tiny pebbles of loose purple brick whenever a stiff wind would blow past. At the very least, the hallway was mostly intact. 

Illusen gripped a squeaky doorknob and opened the wooden door to unveil an unimpressive room. The bed was low to the ground and its blankets hung halfway off the mattress, strewn about haphazardly. Stray rolls of white parchment, untouched quills and unopened bottles of ink were stacked on the study desk alongside multiple thick volumes. 

Baelia walked over to the messy bed and gingerly lowered Jhudora down onto her bed. She tugged the blankets over her body and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Illusen remained in the doorway. 

“I’ll stay with her tonight and make sure she rests.” Illusen bit back an instinctive objection and forced herself to nod. 

“All right.” She lingered in the doorway as Baelia tucked Jhudora in. “I’ll come back another day, then.” 

Baelia smiled and waved as Illusen departed. The sun had yet to reach its zenith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're in the endgame now


	7. Heart and Soul (The Way a Fool Would Do)

A band of rogue-like warriors sporting Fyora’s royal emblem intercepted Illusen as she crossed into the inner ring. There were four of them in total and they were all stalwart, silent and unwavering as they all but forcibly escorted her to the Queen’s castle. 

Fyora had grown worried at her long absence and apologized for the rude ushers. Illusen smiled and nodded through her spiel about Faerieland’s current events but was taken aback when Fyora casually mentioned information regarding the creature. 

It disappeared one day, she said, completely out of the blue. There were no remains in its cage and the extensive tests performed all came back with negative results. It was as if the creature never existed at all. Nessa claimed it escaped into the night. Dalia hypothesized that its body's black magic had been neutralized by Faerieland’s white magic. 

Fyora looked to Illusen as if she held all the answers, but Illusen couldn’t begin to wrap her mind around the creature’s seemingly intangible form, much less the specific distinctions between contrasting branches of magic. She knew who could comprehend and interpret all this new information. She kept her mouth shut.

Presently, she stood just outside the entrance to the dark forest. It had been a month since her last visit to Faerieland and she longed to sit in the solitude of Jhudora’s cave and talk about everything and nothing. The air smelled fresh with a subtle note of dried, fallen leaves and fertile soil. She began to walk down the path she took long ago with assurance in her heart rather than the cold feeling of trepidation. 

The forest’s canopy was as dense as before and blocked out the mid-morning sun. Illusen listened closely for any signs of life but found the ecosystem to be as barren as ever. No long branches grabbed at her clothing; no vines attempted to trip and ensnare her. 

She took in another lungful of air and relished in the familiar earthy aroma that permeated her surroundings. Gone was the stench of decay and the noxious odour of death, flesh and suffering. In her absence, grass propagated and thoroughly covered the charred ground. The decaying stump had been reduced to ash by Jhudora’s magic and left nothing but a dark grey smear on the forest floor. With time, nature intervened and sprouted fresh grass and tiny flowers from hatred’s charred husk. 

In the place of maggots and insect larvae were tiny ladybugs, beautiful butterflies and moths. Illusen walked for a little while longer, marveling at the forest’s drastic change in temperament until her feet brought her to an abrupt stop in front of the pathway she had grown to recognize. The oppressive silence was gone and she could no longer feel hot breath blowing against her breath or hear the wheezing gasps of a creature of perverse origins forcibly stitched together and doused in thick, dripping blood. 

The pathway looked the same as before. Illusen took a few steps forward and knelt in front of the patch of coarse dirt that could still glisten with the sight of freshly spilled blood if she squinted her eyes hard enough. While the physical evidence had long faded away, the memory remained. It still tugged at her heart and brought tears to her eyes whenever she thought about it for too long, but the memory had lessened in impact over time. Jhudora unwittingly helped mend the gaps in her heart with her deadpan snark and cynical outlook that forcibly turned the cogs in Illusen’s brain before they could jam and revert to forlorn memories. 

Like her, the forest healed itself. Illusen smiled and breathed in the fresh air, free of any unsavoury contaminants or odours, once more and left the dark thicket for good.

*

She had been nightmare-free for over a month now. Jhudora looked perturbed when Illusen relayed the information Fyora gave regarding the creature to her. When Illusen stopped talking, she crammed the bottom half of her face into her hands and looked as if someone held a rotten negg under her nose. 

Illusen set what she hoped to be a soothing hand on Jhudora’s shoulder. To her surprise, it was not immediately rejected. Jhudora allowed the hand to remain rested on her thin shoulder as she stared unblinking at the dull stone wall. 

“That doesn’t make any sense.” She finally spat out and twisted her body so that it properly faced Illusen. “We both saw the creature. Multiple times we were close enough to reach out and touch it, as disgusting as that may have been.” 

“Nessa and Dalia reported that the creature mysteriously vanished.” Illusen said. “Fyora didn’t elaborate, but she did say that Dalia theorized the creature itself was fueled by black magic.” 

Jhudora chewed her lip. “It’s possible.” She said after a long period of silence. “The amalgamate was severely weakened-- almost docile-- after the heart of the forest was engulfed in purifying fire. There’s an established correlation.” Illusen raised her brows. 

“I traversed into the dark forest once I noticed that its defining attributes were absent.” Jhudora boggled at her bold assertion. 

“Recently?” She asked. Illusen sat down on the cold cave floor and crossed her legs in preparation for lengthy questioning. She didn’t mind so long as Jhudora kept talking to her. 

“Yes, just yesterday. The ecosystem was drastically different. There was no decay or decomposition; the grass grew and the trees looked as healthy as ever. Nature reclaimed the stump that you incinerated and repurposed its ashes as fertilizer for the prosperous spring.” 

Illusen practically glowed. Jhudora set her mouth into a thin line and stared at her with the same indecipherable expression she always wore whenever Illusen talked about nature. Many of her expressions were unreadable, but Illusen became proficient at analyzing every minute twitch of Jhudora’s lips and quirk of her eyebrow. 

“I don’t understand why you would want to revisit the place that plagues your nightmares.” 

“Curiosity, I think.” Illusen said. “It was the same wanton inquisitiveness that led me down that path in the first place.” If it hadn’t been for that wheedling sense of discomfort that built and built like concrete bricks whenever she stepped near the forest entrance, she wouldn’t have reconciled with Jhudora. She used to curse that realization in this past, but now she clung onto it like a lifeline. 

“I haven’t had any nightmares for some time now.” She said. Jhudora nodded her head. “Care to tell me why you neglected to mention how long it took you to gather materials?” 

Jhudora regarded her with a long, level look and shrugged. “It didn’t seem important to divulge.” 

“Baelia said it took you a fortnight to gather ingredients just to make that meager potion. It exhausted you to the point of collapse.” Illusen wasn’t as angry as she should have been. The slope of Jhudora’s shoulders; the dark, prevalent circles that encompassed her eyes and the unfocused pupils that remained contracted even in low light made Illusen’s anger melt away, only to be replaced by worry. 

When Jhudora didn’t give an immediate answer, Illusen crawled over and set a hand on her knee. She didn’t give a reaction aside from an instinctive flinch. 

“Does Baelia visit you often?” She asked, steering the conversation towards safer waters. 

“Not often.” Jhudora said. “Once every other full moon. She has her own life to worry about and tending to Fyora’s shop is no easy feat. I almost feel sorry for her, having to deal with so many unruly customers and wide-eyed tourists. It can't be easy.” 

“I find it odd that I’ve never encountered her before that day.” 

“She comes during the night.” Jhudora cleared her throat. “Enough interrogation.” Illusen couldn’t help but smile. Only Jhudora would think questions about her personal life were akin to interrogation. 

“Your little Blumaroo friend says the strangest things sometimes.” She blinked owlishly at the mention of Tati. It had been a while since he last visited her, and she hadn’t been the most conversational the last time he ventured into her Glade. With all the excitement last autumn had brought her-- the numerous trips between Meridell and Faerieland and reconciling her friendship with Jhudora-- Tati had been shoved into the back of her consciousness. 

She would have to make it up to him somehow. If she took the time to explain herself thoroughly then he would understand that she hadn’t been neglecting him on purpose. He had a forgiving heart. 

“Such as?” Illusen couldn’t keep the curious note out of her voice. She knew the hook was Jhudora’s ploy to divert the conversation away from herself, as she often liked to do. 

“Well, he talks about you a lot.” She smiled at that. Even in her absence, Tati kept her in mind. It was nice. “He’s fond of that garden you have, and he’s always singing praises about your character. He’s very soft-hearted.” 

Illusen’s smile grew broader as Jhudora continued to stare at anything but her. “I bet he wouldn’t mind if I asked him to come along with me the next time I pay you a visit.” 

“No, I don’t doubt he wouldn’t. 

“And you, Jhudora?” 

“I don’t vehemently hate the idea.” Illusen stood up and lightly, gingerly wrapped her arms around Jhudora’s shoulders. She didn’t wince when the hard bone jutted into her body. Jhudora made no attempt to struggle; she simply accepted the hug for what it was. 

They had been doing this for a while. Illusen would punctuate the ending of her visits with a hug and Jhudora would take it without complaint. The first Illusen introduced the hug was met with uncertainty. Jhudora repelled her by moving away and letting Illusen wrap her arms around thin air. 

She gradually learned that Jhudora was fondest of quick, feather-light hugs. The kind that would be given to an acquaintance or an estranged family member. Illusen made a point of putting her heart and soul into every one of her brief hugs since Jhudora didn’t like it when she held onto her. 

Jhudora didn’t hug her back. She never did, and Illusen was okay with that. She hoped that in a few months, Jhudora would slowly change her mind. The whimsical idea sent flutters into her stomach and brought a dreamy smile to her face. No matter how long it took, she would wait. 

*

Tati bounced beside her, holding her hand for support as they ascended the staircase that assembled itself out of gravel and cobblestone when they neared Jhudora’s promontory. His backpack jingled with miscellaneous trinkets as he bounced his way up the steps and Illusen worried that his tail might sprain under the combined forces of gravity and a heavy bag. The hard stone wasn’t great for his tail. 

He hopped into Jhudora’s cave with a flourish and called out into the empty cavern. He had grown bold with his displays of friendship and was further emboldened with Illusen by his side. Jhudora was nowhere to be found and Illusen feared the worst. She could have collapsed again or fainted from exertion while fetching water. She remained still as Tati maneuvered around the shelves of potions, magical tomes and scrolls of parchment. She waited until he was thoroughly immersed before making a beeline towards the back of the cave, rounding a corner and holding her breath. 

Illusen flinched backwards as her breath caught in her throat. Jhudora blinked, face impassive, as she stood a mere hair’s width away. Illusen placed a hand on Jhudora’s shoulder to steady herself and suck the depleted air back into her lungs. Jhudora held a tattered book close to her chest and waited. 

“Company.” Illusen wheezed out once she regained her wits. It didn’t help that Jhudora smelled faintly like incense and old rolls of parchment. 

“I heard him call. It would do you well to remind him that I’m no Gelert.” The corner of her lip twitched upwards and Illusen allowed her posture to loosen. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She said. Jhudora peered at her for a few seconds more before turning her back and walking out into the cave’s mouth to greet her guest. Illusen followed and hovered close by when Tati bounced up exuberantly and took Jhudora’s delicate, pale hand in his fuzzy paws. 

Tati rambled on about his travels across Neopia and Jhudora gave him her mostly undivided attention. Her gaze would break whenever a particularly shrill wind would screech by and send cold air currents through the cave, but the brief lapse in attention didn’t deter him. Illusen sat beside him and busied herself with patching up the ample number of tiny holes that would only grow larger over time. 

Jhudora tried her best to be pleasant and keep her face neutral. It worked wonderfully. Tati babbled about flowers and roots and trees and the various strange plants he encountered during his exploration. Jhudora’s interest was piqued when he wrestled out a large, dried talon from the depths of his backpack. 

Illusen stabbed her sewing needle into the pincushion and frowned. Jhudora handled the severed talon gingerly, keeping her digits away from its sharpened claws. Tati had the decency to look sheepish when Illusen held up his old backpack, riddled with tiny holes and cuts, and regarded him with a flat look. 

“Why did you buy this, Tati?” Jhudora asked, turning the talon over in her hands and tracing the dried skin with her fingertip. Even in its current state, the desiccated claw looked fearsome. 

“Oh, it was part of a deal!” He proclaimed. “The shopkeeper had an excess inventory, and he was more than willing to throw in a few trinkets with my purchase.” From the pile of medicinal goods, he retrieved a small sack of dried brown mushrooms, a scroll of pressed, red bespeckled leaves and a few rigid-looking stalks cut neatly in half and bound together with plant fiber. 

“I see you paid a visit to Shenkuu.” Jhudora said. Tati nodded fervently. 

“Yes, Miss Jhudora! I was visiting family over the summer months!” 

Illusen picked up the bundle of dried stalks and lightly hit it against her palm. Her eyebrows shot up as the stalks produced a sharp thwack, barely vibrating. Her cheeks burned as she caught Jhudora’s eye and the questioning quirk of her brow. Tati mumbled something unintelligible and pushed his various restoratives into Jhudora’s lap. 

“Thank you, Tati.” What else could she have said to a Blumaroo who was too innocent, too eager to please? Smiling, Illusen dropped the bundle of stalks onto the pile of Shenkuu remedies and flourished in the sardonic look shot her way. 

“Oh! I almost forgot!” He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small bunch of variegated flowers. He thrust the flowers into Jhudora’s grip and beamed as her frown faded and gave way to an expression of pure confoundment. She took the offered flowers and gingerly held them between her thumb and index finger. Illusen smiled as she recognized the purple and white asters, knowing full well that their delicate meaning would be lost on both of them. 

“Leaving so soon?” She asked as Tati scooped up his empty backpack and slung it around his shoulders. The lack of weight allowed him to bounce higher and more vigorously than before. 

He nodded and tightened the straps, still bouncing in place. “Yes’m! I’ve got to prepare dinner for my Ma’ and Pa!” The sun was halfway down the sky. 

Jhudora beckoned Tati close with a jerk of her wrist. She produced a jar, unscrewed the lid and pinched a small amount of grey dust between her fingers. Tati shut his eyes as she sprinkled the mixture onto his forehead. He barely had enough time to reopen his eyes and wave them goodbye as his form rapidly faded, transporting him back to his home in Roo Island.

The cave instantly seemed larger without Tati’s presence. The silence echoed along the expansive walls. Jhudora looked down at the bundle of wildflowers in her hand, loosely tied together with brown twine, and released a sigh. 

“Surely he knows that they’re going to die here.” She said and held the bunch up to eye-height for a better look. She twisted her wrist and examined the flowers from every direction and only paused when Illusen cupped her hand and lowered the bundle of flowers. 

“What makes you so certain?” She asked. Jhudora turned to face her and Illusen’s eyes instantly went to the small, white scar that nicked the corner of her lip. When her heartbeat quickened, she assured herself that it was because of how Jhudora got that scar many decades ago.

“There’s no sunlight. It can get quite humid after a thunderstorm.” Jhudora shrugged and Illusen adjusted her grip so that her hands enclosed around Jhudora’s. “Everything here dies at an expedited rate.” 

Illusen shook her head and squeezed Jhudora’s hand, taking care not to accidentally bruise her fingers or the delicate flower stems. “Not this time. We can take care of these flowers together.” 

The subtle flash of desperation that flitted across Jhudora’s face didn’t go unnoticed. It wedged a sharp fragment of apprehension into Illusen’s heart and all but enticed her to grab ahold of Jhudora’s shoulders and hold her close. She mustered up the warmest smile she could will her mouth into, and the bulk of her anxiety melted away when Jhudora looked at her with the same tired eyes, the corner of her lip twitching upwards in a minimal semblance of a proper smile.

For Illusen, it was as if the flowers spontaneously bloomed and the trees bore ripe fruit. The pounding of her heart reverberated in her ears and caused her legs to tremor. She sucked in a breath and busied herself with finding a suitable replacement for a vase. 

*

The flowers found their home inside a wide-mouthed vial positioned on the makeshift shelf far away from the drying heat of the cauldron. Jhudora kept the flowers watered and set them out on the cave’s lip every morning to soak up sunlight and brought them in during the evening or at the first sight of a thunderstorm. Illusen talked to the flowers whenever Jhudora wasn’t around or was too preoccupied with her research into exotic Shenkuu remedies to properly respond. 

The flowers leaned towards her while she talked, as if soaking up her words like they soaked up the sunlight. More than once she glimpsed Jhudora’s ear unconsciously angled towards her, a tell-tale sign that she was listening in without really trying to. A year ago, she would have been affronted that someone was eavesdropping on her conversation, even if they weren’t doing so blatantly, but now it warmed her to know that Jhudora didn’t think her mindless chatter to be a nuisance. 

It hadn’t rained in over a week. Illusen brought the flowers in from their post and set them on the bookshelf. She gently blew on their petals and watched with mirth as their slightly drooping stems straightened up and their colours reinvigorated. She liked the purple ones most of all. 

“It’s late.” She said. Jhudora rubbed her eyes as she set aside her quill, tapping it on the mouth of her inkwell a few times before rinsing and drying the nib. She had been hunched over the same roll of parchment for hours, fervently flipping through pages of assorted tomes and grumbling whenever the information she craved wasn’t present. 

“Indeed.” Only a sliver of the orange sun peeked out from the horizon. The moon rose, providing light when the sun could not. The cobblestone roads reflected the gentle light of the moon while the dirt pathways were rendered near invisible. “Tired already?” Jhudora asked. 

“A little.” Illusen admitted. “Aren’t you?” Jhudora sat up straight and stretched her arms above her head. She rolled her neck and grimaced as she massaged the tender muscle that cramped up during her hours of diligent work. 

“I work best at night.” She said. “There are far fewer distractions than during the day.” 

“Like me?” Illusen smiled and enjoyed the way Jhudora rolled her eyes. 

“Now that you mention it,” She drawled. “there has been one particular earth faerie that continues to pester me without reprieve.” 

“I’m sure she means well.” Illusen kicked off the ground and fluttered over, resting her chin on Jhudora’s head and wrapping her arms loosely around her neck. Her wings sustained the brunt of her weight. 

Jhudora scoffed. “Debatable.” With Illusen’s arms still encompassing her neck, she corked the inkwell and rolled up her scroll of parchment, pausing to fan any splotches of ink that hadn’t dried. 

The various open volumes drew Illusen’s eye. Only one had illustrations printed in colour. The rest were sketched in black ink. Each page was crammed with information; paragraphs upon paragraphs of descriptive text were shrunken down to prevent overflow. The illustrations were nestled tightly into a corner or constrained into their meager section. 

A faded illustration of a fanned flower with spiny roots and a bulbous, purple center took up the top left corner of the page Jhudora bookmarked with pressed leaves. Even as an illustration, the brilliant flower emanated a powerful aura that intensified near the center and the roots. 

“Shenkuu herbal medicine isn’t a topic I’m well versed in.” Jhudora said once Illusen shifted her weight and leaned forward to get a better look. “I suppose I only have myself to blame for that.” 

“Faerieland is a ways away from Shenkuu.” Given Jhudora’s current situation, an immersive approach wouldn’t have been possible. Illusen ran her thumb down the corner of the page and stopped when her flesh brushed against the worn illustration. 

“I wouldn’t have bothered if not for Tati.” 

She retracted her hand and wrapped it back around Jhudora’s neck and shoulders. “Why the sudden interest in homeopathy?” 

“You’d be surprised at how versatile some of these ingredients are.” Jhudora said. “I find it’s best to cover all bases. It wouldn’t be the first time a Neopian begged me to make them a panacea.” 

“Did you?” Illusen asked. She couldn’t keep the hopeful tone out of her voice. 

“There are some illnesses even magic can’t cure.” Jhudora said. “I haven’t encountered one, but they exist. Those who requested a panacea were unlucky enough to contract more than one contagious illness and lamented that remedies were often expensive. I made what I could.” 

The top of Jhudora’s head was cold. Illusen blinked as her mind fogged over and her breathing became shallow. Jhudora reached up, set a hand on her forearm and left it there for a short second. A jolt ran through Illusen’s body and the spot where Jhudora’s hand met her bare arm burned and tingled long after she left the cave. 

It had only been for a second, yet her face flushed crimson and hot as the memory replayed itself over and over in her mind. It was the first time Jhudora willingly touched her. The spot prickled more as she thought about it. The humid night air suffocated her and tore off her blankets. 

She didn’t sleep.

*

Illusen’s wings fought hard against the ferocious winds as they carried her back to Faerieland. The cool air felt like thin blades as it blew against her, raking down her arms and scratching her face and wings as she struggled to balance herself. The scarf and overcoat she pulled on in preparation for cold weather failed to protect her from the intrusive winds that snuck into every small opening and chilled her exposed skin. 

Nature was against her. Her wings were stiff with cold; she couldn’t flap them nor feel their circulation. Illusen descended from the sky and touched her feet to the ground, thoroughly defeated. Before the chilling winds began to blow, she had traveled a fair distance from Meridell. She made a wise decision to rise and leave early. The sun was still half asleep in the sky. 

The winds blew again and nearly toppled her over with sheer force. It was a sign to keep moving. With no other option in sight, Illusen pulled her scarf firmly around her mouth and nose and walked. It would be a long trek to Faerieland.

Her mind had the unsavoury habit of wandering when there were no disruptions to bedevil her. It often left her with an unpleasant taste in her mouth as her mind gripped her hand and dragged her down dark alleyways of repressed emotions, seemingly forgotten conversations and embarrassing shenanigans.

Today, her mind raced towards Jhudora while her feet brought her closer to Faerieland. The progress they made in just over a year was astounding. While everything wasn’t back to the way it had been during their adolescence, their relationship felt natural. Relaxed. Jhudora’s snark and quick wit challenged Illusen’s mind to think beyond society's veneer. Illusen liked to believe that her presence brightened Jhudora’s day and gave her a more optimistic outlook towards life. 

Jhudora was in no ways a pessimist just as Illusen wasn’t an optimist. They both floated in the ambiguous ocean of grey uncertainty. It was the same regarding their morality. For a majority of her life, she believed Jhudora to be nefarious and despicable. The mere idea of touching Jhudora made her skin crawl, but now she had never wanted anything more. 

She didn’t know what Jhudora thought of her. She could only hope that it was something positive. If she was feeling bold, she would go as far as to pray Jhudora reciprocated whatever strange emotion stirred in her chest every time they locked eyes. 

The feeling didn’t cause Illusen discomfort or panic. She had felt the sensation of butterflies tickling her stomach, her heart rate skyrocketing whenever that person existed close by and the all too familiar clamminess of her hands. 

Illusen tugged her coat tighter around her body when a particularly strong gust of wind came barrelling her way. She could just make out the faint silhouette of Faerieland in the distance and hear the cajoling that made the outer rings so distinctive. 

Jhudora was an enigma. She would only let Illusen know what she wanted her to know. The rest would remain a mystery. At times, it felt like an arduous game of tug-of-war, but Illusen knew that the key to surpassing Jhudora’s many walls was patience. Those walls were erected for a reason. 

She breathed out a long exhale and winced as her breath fogged up in front of her. Winter was approaching faster than expected. The trees had yet to finish shedding their autumn coat. Would Jhudora appreciate some new leaves to press? She easily had dozens of bookmarks, but what was a few more? 

A Fire faerie wearing a thin, tattered tunic walked straight into Illusen and fell facedown onto the meadow. Without thinking, Illusen held out her arms to catch her, but the strange faerie slipped out of her grip and laid face down on the ground. She didn’t move. 

Illusen felt her skin tingle and crawl as loud jeers surrounded her, shouting at the poor faerie to get up and walk it off. She took a few steps back when a low moaning sound wheezed its way out of the faerie’s lungs. 

The faerie rolled onto her back and stared up at the sky, eyes cloudy under the influence of alcohol. Illusen chewed her lip and clutched her coat. She bent down and offered her hand. Without so much as a glance, the faerie took it and hoisted herself up. Illusen’s attempt at a comforting smile wavered when the jeers increased in volume. They weren’t directed at her, but the tumultuous nature shocked her to her very core. The faerie unceremoniously dropped her hand and disappeared into the throng of vendors.

The remainder of her journey was traveled in silence. Her brain decided to shut itself off and give her short reprieve. Contrary to the roar of the outer circle, Faerie City hummed with soft reverberance as its denizens lazily awoke from a night of rest. 

Illusen made her way to the Queen’s castle; the process was exponentially easier without having to dodge bustling faeries and busy families. She was let in without fuss. The castle interior was quiet save for the soft footsteps of conscientious servants. Aethia was nowhere to be found. 

The throne room, which appeared even larger without the guards, guests and servants, was completely still. The throne sat undisturbed: the armrests were unpolished, and the seat cushion was unusually flat. The curtains fluttered as a calm breeze flittered by. Illusen set her jaw and waited. 

When she opened her eyes and blinked away the thin film that blurred her vision, she found herself cross-legged on the floor, staring up at Fyora’s magnificence. No words were exchanged as Illusen took the hand offered to her and pulled herself up. She stifled a yawn and rubbed at her eyes as Fyora led her into their usual meeting room. 

“Tea?” Fyora offered as soon as they were situated. Illusen shook her head. She didn’t want the alleviation of perfectly made caffeine; it would only dull her mind and cause her to stray from her path. 

“No, thank you.” She stilled herself as Fyora made a cup for herself and sat the teapot between them. 

“What brings you to me so early, Illusen?” The shallow crease of her brow impaired Fyora’s otherwise immaculate appearance. Illusen wasn’t sure if dark circles surrounding her eyes were just a figment of her sleep-deprived imagination, or if Fyora was susceptible to the horrors of unanswered questions and night-time anxiety as well. 

“Many things, My Queen, if you’re willing to hear me out.” Fyora waved her hand. 

“Always.” 

Illusen waited until she returned the teacup to its coaster and swallowed what little mouthful she took. “I have concerns regarding Faerieland’s dungeons.” She said. 

“Such as?” Fyora’s face remained placid as Illusen explained her woes and argued against the hypocrisy of the current incarceration system. When she mentioned Nadezhda and her corrupted reign over the dungeons, Fyora’s face twitched into an expression of immense discomfort. She held up a hand. 

“I am aware of what Nadezhda has done, Illusen.” Illusen closed her mouth and forced herself to nod. “I think it would behoove you to know that Nadezhda has passed on.” 

“She’s dead?” 

“Yes, for quite some time now.” Fyora said. Despite the somber topic, no sadness tinged her face. “The consequences of Nadezhda’s corruption were severe. With the creature gone and no other answers to be found, I’ve turned my attention to renovating the entirety of the dungeons and the legislation surrounding incarceration.” 

“What about Jhudora?” Illusen asked. A large part of her revelled when Fyora was physically taken aback, her eyes snapping open and eyebrows shooting up. 

“Have the two of you reconciled?” She gave a short nod of her head and refused to let the conversation topic stray. 

“We have, and Jhudora’s the reason why I’ve taken such interest in the corrupt justice system. Fyora, I know I was the one responsible for Jhudora’s incarceration, and I’m willing to admit fault, but I can’t understand why the decision for immediate incarceration was passed without a jury. Isn’t that how things are normally run?” 

Fyora studied her, her fingertip brushing over the teacup’s porcelain handle as she considered her words carefully. Illusen couldn’t read her unchanging expression; it was carefully guarded in a way only an expert politician could achieve. 

“Do you remember the first thing you said to me when I questioned why you changed your mind about joining my court?” She lifted the teacup to her lips and took a small sip, cringing at how quickly the tea cooled. 

“I said that I wanted to get away from everything.” Illusen said. The memory was bleak. She hadn’t been at the most stable of mentalities at the time. “Start anew. Forge a different path for myself.” 

Fyora smiled at her. “When you told me this over a century ago, I didn’t believe you.” She let loose a chuckle when Illusen frowned and gripped her arms defensively. “I knew there was more to your reasoning than you were comfortable telling me, so I let it slide. Your heart, however, was steadfast.” 

“If I hadn’t been so brash, acted so carelessly, do you think Jhudora’s life would be different?” 

They were both silent as Illusen’s question hung in the air. She tapped her thigh. Slowly, Fyora shook her head and released a long sigh that seemed to drain her very essence. The bags that Illusen had chalked up to her sleep deprivation were more prominent than ever. 

“No, I don’t think so.” Fyora said. “You have to understand, Illusen, even before you accepted my offer, Jhudora had made plenty of enemies. Many of those enemies were jealous of her potential and wanted what they could never achieve. Others despised her simply because of her race, her milieu and her disposition. You may think that those characteristics are all such trivial things to obsess over. To go as far as to gossip, defame and hate an innocent faerie over. But for some unlucky few, it’s all they know. It’s all they were ever taught.” 

She released another breath. “I did not have the power to intervene with Jhudora’s trial. I want to believe that this whole situation was Nazedzha’s doing, but even I know better than to walk on her grave. Jhudora’s name spread like a wildfire, Illusen. It became synonymous with every evil deed, every act of misfortune, every plague and every blight. It was so much easier to blame a failing shop or dying crops on a girl whose name you’ve only heard but never seen. They were ravenous. I had never seen my citizens behave so viciously.” 

“They called for her execution. A small yet loud minority wanted it to be publicized.” The tea was now completely cold. Illusen found her arms bespeckled with firm goosebumps. “Thankfully, my judicial powers extended to granting a criminal temporary amnesty. I absolved Jhudora of her crimes against Faerieland, but the exercising of black and forbidden magicks was too severe to overlook. The public wanted her to rot away in the dark. I gave her a hundred years, and when Faerieland fell I isolated her away because I knew it would keep her safe.” 

“So you’re saying that the last fifty years Jhudora spent in that cave, alone and malnourished, were for her own good?” Illusen couldn’t stop her hands from shaking. She sat on them and focused on quelling the fire that blossomed through her chest. 

“The barrier I erected serves more than to sequester her from the outside world.” Fyora said. “From an outside perspective, I know it must seem cruel to cage her away, but you must understand that things are not always black and white. I wish I could go into detail about what the barrier protects her from, but that would be a breach of Jhudora’s trust. She may despise me with every fiber of her being, but I do keep her feelings in mind when making such decisions.” 

“Ask her.” She pleaded. It was like the past year had never happened, and Illusen was back at square one, sitting in front of Fyora while they discussed how to best amend things with Jhudora. “She won’t talk with me as willingly as she does with you, and Baelia is hesitant to tell me anything, for good reason I suppose.” 

Illusen’s heart tore out of her chest and jumped into the back of her throat. She struggled to swallow it back down and keep her temperament in check. “Does Jhudora know?” She asked and took a deep breath through her nose to settle her anxieties.

“No, and I don’t pressure Baelia to tell me anything she doesn’t want to. I only ask for topical details: how Jhudora’s doing, her state of mind-- nothing intrusive.” Fyora stood and refilled her porcelain cup with steaming tea but did not drink. She stared down into her cup and frowned as if contemplating the ambiguous future while using the tea leaves as a medium. 

“I can assure you that beneficial changes to the legislation and judicial review process will be made.” She set the cup down and fixated Illusen with a stare watery enough to hydrate the entirety of the Lost Desert. It was heartbreaking to see Fyora in a state of such disrepair. Her powerful stance and royal aura were still present but diluted. Illusen thought she saw an impersonator who merely wore Fyora’s crown, her robes and her smile, but the eons had slowly chipped away until there was nothing left but a woman expended by convoluted and corrupt politics.

“I only want to see her happy, Illusen, and I know that if anyone could guarantee that, it’s you.” It wasn’t as bold of a demand as Fyora could have made of her. Jhudora certainly made Illusen happy; it was written all over her face, and Fyora certainly wasn’t as oblivious as she claimed to be. 

“I only have one more matter to discuss.” When Fyora nodded in assent, she took a deep, calming breath and hoped her tongue would detangle itself enough to formulate cohesive words. “In one of our previous meetings, you said that regular patrols were delivering food and other necessary supplies to Jhudora’s promontory.” 

Fyora knit her eyebrows together and nodded, her lips carving a deep crease across her face. “I did.” 

“Fyora, Jhudora never received any supplies: food, water or otherwise. She’s been sustaining herself through rudimentary satiation spells. She doesn’t eat or drink, and she rejected all my offers to share food with her.” 

As Illusen spoke, Fyora’s face blanched until it resembled the porcelain cup she held up to her lips. She rested the cup back on its coaster and stared at her in blank-faced incomprehension. Whatever thoughts ran through Fyora’s mind as she carefully stood, pushed her chair in and riffled through a nearby cabinet must have been disorienting. 

She let out a small noise of relief as she found what she sought: a small journal bound in brown faux leather and stamped with Faerieland’s official symbol. She handed it Illusen and sat back down, taking irregular sips of her rapidly cooling tea as she absentmindedly swirled the cup. It was a miracle no liquid spilled over the edges.

Illusen peeled back the cover and let her eyes peruse the first page. It was a series of carefully documented time cards with labels expressing time of delivery, acceptance status and time of retreat. There were hundreds of them; each page only had enough room for twenty reports. Illusen flipped through them all, scanning each page with equal diligence until she reached the final empty slot halfway through the journal. 

Yesterday’s date was written in delicate, black ink and signed off by Fyora herself. Next to her signature was the timestamp-- midmorning at 11:28-- the accepted delivery status and the time of departure six minutes later. It was all bogus. Illusen blinked to clear her eyes of any obstructive microparticles and read the line and time stamp again. It didn’t change. No matter how many times she whipped her eyes over the same line, the numbers remained the same. 

She had spent the entire day at Jhudora’s cave. She arrived in the early morning and stayed until mid-evening. There had been no deliveries made, no patrols spotted and no other guests beside herself. She flipped back a few pages and picked a random line. 

It was a date in winter. Last winter. The time was later than the first, 1:09 in the afternoon, with a departure time a mere two minutes later. It had been dated and signed off by Fyora as all the rest were. Illusen remembered the date well; Jhudora had expressed her desires to visit the Lost Desert and learn more about the ancient hierarchies from the native population. Knowledge that historical textbooks couldn’t provide. It had been one of their earliest successful conversations, and it paved the way for Illusen’s willingness to stay late and Jhudora’s eventual acceptance of Illusen’s presence back in her life. 

“With all due respect, Fyora, you’ve been deceived. I can attest that none of the more recent deliveries were made.” If there were two blatant fallacies, what prevented the entire journal from being swathed in lies? She watched Fyora cycle through a flurry of emotions. First, there was shock, quickly followed by disbelief and acrimony. When Fyora took the journal back and flipped through the pages of timecards she so earnestly signed and dated, there was a brief flash of realization. 

“I’ve been visiting Jhudora nearly every day for the past few months. I went early and left in the early-mid evening. I’m sorry, Fyora, but there weren’t any patrols. If there were, I would have seen them.” Fyora shut the book and buried her face in her hands. She was silent for a long moment and Illusen watched as water slowly trickled from the dam. It burst. 

Fyora’s shoulders heaved as she silently sobbed. She clutched her face in her hands to catch the falling silver tears and hide her guilt from prying eyes. Only it wasn’t guilt. Illusen watched with trepidation as silver droplets rolled down Fyora’s wrist and arms and fell onto the palace floor. 

The longer Illusen watched, her throat swollen shut in sympathy, the quicker her mind formed correlations. Fyora and Jhudora grieved in almost identical patterns. They hid their face, their sadness and vulnerability, from the outside world in fear that it would be used against them. What a cold, callous world they all lived in, where a faerie’s tears would be used to exploit her worst nightmares. 

Illusen leaned across the table, breaking the invisible barrier Fyora erected and wrapped her hand around her wrist. Her hand rose and lifted Fyora’s chin from her pit of despair as more silver tears trickled from her eyes and traveled down her cheeks. The tears that welled in her eyes looked like pools of liquid mercury and fell like a heavy stone. 

She held Fyora’s face in her hands like it was made of glass. Fyora covered her hand with her own and sat up, temporary composing herself. She didn’t bother to wipe away the tears that streamed down her face nor did she try to staunch their flow. It was a rare moment of vulnerability that put things into perspective and gave Illusen a direction forward. 

“Thank you.” Fyora said. “For telling me. I’d rather not think of what would happen if you hadn’t. I’ve only myself to blame for letting this deceit continue for so long.” She sniffled and glanced down as her tears seeped into the exquisite fabric of her formal wear. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to convince her to eat.” Illusen admitted. Fyora shook her head in rueful agreement. 

“It’s unlikely. Seventy years was more than enough time to allow her body to adapt to the nature of satiation spells and left her with no desire to eat or drink. If she were to eat, it would mean reversing all the progress she made thus far. It wouldn’t be wise.” She sucked in a heaving breath, her lungs catching a few times as she trembled. “I’ll prosecute the members of the patrol. You have my word.” 

It felt as if a heavy boulder had been lifted from her shoulders. “Thank you, Fyora.” Fyora smiled at her as she left, though the tears did not stop falling from her eyes. 

Illusen’s heart pounded as she raced down the busy streets of Faerieland, experienced at navigating the roads and slipping through tight throngs before bursting into the sky at the first sign of an uncongested area. She soared through the air and ignored the pointed glares of earthbound faeries below. Her emotions bustled around in her skull and carried her back to Jhudora’s cave. It was mid-morning when she left Fyora’s castle, and it was still mid-morning when she arrived back in her second home. 

“Teach me how to do alchemy!” Jhudora reeled back at the unexpected presence in the opening of her cave. Illusen was later than usual; she assumed that she wasn’t visiting today. How wrong she was. 

“Pardon?” Jhudora said, leaving a cautious distance from her cauldron lest it spill everywhere and burn her tender skin. Illusen controlled her maverick energy. 

“Alchemy, Jhudora.” She said. “I know it’s a taboo branch of magic, but I want to learn it. I want to learn it from _you_.” The punctuated ending didn’t fly over Jhudora’s head. 

Illusen’s smile remained plastered across her face even as Jhudora scrutinized her, breaking down every molecule of her being and examining it for flaws and deception. She already knew there were none to be found, her desire to learn was genuine, but it would take Jhudora some time to come to that realization herself.

After a long, tense silence, Jhudora stood back and folded her arms across her chest. Illusen had won. “Why do you want to learn such an obscure craft? You’ve never shown interest in it before.” A simple answer such as _“It may come in handy one day”_ wouldn’t satisfy her. 

“I want to understand why so many view it as taboo. I can’t help but think that your initial explanation was diluted on purpose.” 

Jhudora shrugged. “Why give extraneous information in a situation that does not call for it?” She paused, studying Illusen once more. Illusen allowed it, thrived under Jhudora’s scrutiny after a century of thinking that her attention was the vilest thing in the world. 

“Only the basics. Nothing more.” Jhudora would be a strict teacher, she could feel it, but there was no one better, no one more qualified than her. 

“I’ll take as much as you’ll willing to give me.” Illusen said. Her enthusiasm was infectious; the corner of Jhudora’s lips quirked a millimeter higher than usual. Illusen’s heart soared. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯


	8. One More Tomorrow With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i've returned from the grave with a longer chapter
> 
> with all this quarantine business, I thought something fluffier was appropriate.

Jhudora was strict in her teachings. She expected Illusen to read the same alchemical volumes she studied from and comprehend their enigmatic teachings. She wasn’t, however, unfair with her expectations. Illusen was a novice, and to expect a novice to be able to analyze and fathom the intricate magicks presented in the old tomes was pure madness. 

Illusen was clever and forthcoming with her questions, which pleased Jhudora immensely. A student that understood their limits and pushed themselves without emanating an air of arrogance was rare and better than a pupil who knew all the answers and refused to ask questions. Under Jhudora’s tutelage, Illusen learned the four basic groupings and memorized all twenty-two main alchemy symbols. 

Rather than fill her head with hopeless ambition and mythology, Jhudora was frank in explaining what alchemy was and what alchemy was not. The sought-after and coveted potion of immortality was a myth based on a string of loose facts tailored around the law of equivalent exchange. 

“Life always comes to an end.” Jhudora told her as an unexpected dusting of snow settled on the forever-green meadows below, blanketing it and muffling the sounds of civilization. The fire kept them warm. “Immortality is unachievable. However, there have always been rumours of extending one’s life through ethically dubious means.” She stopped and digressed to an unrelated topic once Illusen’s face grew a few shades paler in colour. 

Though Jhudora had been merciful enough to avoid the specifics, the curiosity gnawed away at Illusen’s mind until she was forced to blurt out her question during an otherwise quiet study session. Jhudora was surprised that it took so long for her to admit her curiosity.

“It’ll get you into trouble one day.” She said. Illusen stuck out her tongue like a child and reminded her that, yes, it _had_ already gotten her into trouble. It had gotten them both into trouble, yet they were better for it in the long run. 

Illusen proved to be a quick learner. What may have taken a novice months to learn and many more years to master, she understood in short weeks. Jhudora was hesitant to delve into the art of ritual circles. The fiasco with Baelia was still fresh in her mind, for good reason. 

Everything changed when Illusen plastered on her best puppy pout and gazed at Jhudora with slightly teary eyes, an extended lower lip, and a sullen expression that would cause hearts across the country to shatter in sympathy. Jhudora lasted an impressive four minutes. 

She snatched the stick of grainy chalk out of Illusen’s hand, sulking all the while, and drew a near-perfect circle on the cave floor. She added a larger circle to encompass the first and stood back, handed the chalk to Illusen and gestured for her to do the rest. 

She was to draw a simple transmutation circle empowered by the four classical elements and supported by the seven planetary metals. Illusen leaned down and tried her best not to interrupt the flowing circles as she carefully inscribed each symbol from memory. When she was done, there were seven symbols inscribed within the inner circle and an additional four more in the outer circle. They were all equidistant, connected through meticulously drawn lines in the shape of triangles. 

Illusen stood back, dusted herself off, and allowed Jhudora to examine her work. She didn’t have to wait long for the approval she so desired; Jhudora took one glance and knelt, picking up a tiny pebble that found its way into the transmutation circle and flicking it away without a care. It soared deeper into the cave and Illusen heard the tiny noise of impact it made as it knocked against the hard wall. Jhudora made a grunt of satisfaction and stood back up, appraising her with a flat look that meant pride at her student for coming so far in such a short time. 

Illusen wasted no time and flung her arms around Jhudora’s neck, pulling her close and breathing in the familiar smell of yellowing parchment, crackling firewood, and the aroma of whichever potion Jhudora recently brewed. The smell always lingered even after she dumped and cleaned out her cauldron. Not that Illusen minded. Jhudora smelled faintly of lavender. 

Her hand rested on the small of Illusen’s back for a split second and then dropped back to her side. Illusen pulled away, fully beaming, and allowed the appropriate distance to form between them once more. Jhudora took their teacher-apprentice relationship very seriously and expected her to do the same. She did, but hugs were an essential part of their relationship. Their friendship. 

Jhudora handed her a rag, and Illusen set to scrubbing away the ritual circle. She hadn’t been taught how to transmute a lump of cobblestone into precious metal or wilt a flower to animate a clay figurine; she was still taking her time with the basics. Someday. 

*

Winter came early, and it brought freezing rain, powerful bouts of hail, and cold slush. The temperature hadn’t chilled enough to form solid, sticky snow, only half-frozen slush that melted before it reached the ground. The small fire hadn’t been enough to ward away the creeping tendrils of cold that snaked into the cave from tiny cracks. The cauldron bubbled away as the fire ate the remaining branches and reduced them to grey ash. 

There was little left of the concoction. Jhudora had tended to it as a mother tended to a sleeping child, simmering and reducing it over a low flame until all that was left was a shallow substance, black as the night sky, that croaked out the occasional bubble. Illusen spent her entire Sunday with Jhudora, from sun-up to sun-down. Nobody ever visited her Glade on Sundays. They all had their families to tend to, and there was much to do before the week resumed once more-- and it seemed like Jhudora’s promontory was as empty as her sanctuary.

She sat in Jhudora’s wooden chair, leaning her head against the cave wall as she watched her stir and scrape away at the shimmering residuals. It would be bottled, corked, and put away for future use. Potion making was a delicate subject Illusen refused to touch with a ten-foot pole. She couldn’t imagine inadvertently hurting someone because she added too much of one ingredient or accidentally confused one mushroom species for another. She was perfectly content watching Jhudora brew colourful elixirs. It gave her time to examine the smaller, subtler details that she never had the chance to pay attention to. 

Jhudora always chewed the corner of her right lip whenever she was immersed in thought. If she was taking notes and mulling over the text in front of her, her thumb would creep its way out to the soft part of the feather, just above where the fur began to sprout from the hollow shaft, and rub at it while her eyebrows knit together. Illusen often wondered what it would be like to be that part of the feather.

She tended to shift from one foot to another when she stood for long periods. It was like a dance. A lonely, yet enchanting, dance that Illusen’s eyes couldn’t help but drink in and drift down to the jutting pelvic bone whenever it performed for her. She was careful with her obvious staring and made sure to keep her mouth shut and that glassy, imaginative look out of her eyes. Jhudora never caught her. 

She liked it best when Jhudora would stretch, raise her arms far above her head and tug until the bones popped and the muscles released their strain. The sound wasn’t as nauseating as before. The shrivelled wings would rise with her movements and fall back down when her arms dropped to her sides. After her brief stretch, she would always readjust her hair by pulling the long locks over her shoulder, combing it with her fingers and then letting it drift back around her shoulder naturally. It gave Illusen an unobstructed view of her shoulder blades and the pale, purple skin that remained unmarred by time and weather. She often wondered how the soft expanse of Jhudora’s skin would feel beneath her hands. Platonically, of course. 

When Jhudora did raise her arms over her head and tug until the bones in her shoulder popped, Illusen buried her face in her open textbook and attempted to read the paragraph marked with her index finger. It wasn’t until halfway through that she realized she had already read through the paragraph three separate times. Jhudora dried her stirring rod with the yellowing towel she always used and fanned at the flames. Illusen tried her best to look busy. 

“I’ve been thinking.” She said, causing Jhudora to divert her attention away from the simmering cauldron and face her. 

“I’m not surprised; you’ve obviously not been reading. Don’t pout.” She wasn’t pouting. Illusen smoothed out her not-pouting expression and tucked her legs close to her body. 

“Doesn’t it bother you that the creature just disappeared like that?” She’d been researching on her own time. Fyora’s lack of knowledge was disturbing, given her near-omniscient status. Lack of proper closure bothered her as much as it did Jhudora. 

“My current situation does not allow me to pursue loose ends, even when they seem to defy every abstract law of magic.” Jhudora said. “Yes, it does bother me. Are you sure that Fyora told you everything she could? No half-truths or lies, blatant or otherwise?” 

Illusen shut the textbook and cradled it in her lap. The leather-bound book had weathered away with time, leaving smooth but torn edges and a faded cover. “I’m positive,” Jhudora grumbled and stepped away from her cauldron. 

Illusen’s eyes followed her as she went over to her bookshelf, fingers skimming over the spines of various volumes and old books until she found the one she sought and snatched it from its resting place. Jhudora opened the book to the page she designated with plenty of pressed leaves Illusen brought in for her. She held the book out to Illusen, who recognized a few more foreign symbols than she did last week. 

“Amalgamates are twisted creatures of desire.” Jhudora read when Illusen made no move to take the book. “Formed through volatile emotions-- anger, jealousy, hatred and others of this ilk-- spanning over decades, an amalgamate is often conceived unbeknown to its “parent” and tends to remain close to feed off negativity until it’s strong enough to assemble a tangible form of its own. More often than not, it will strive to form a mental link with its creator and kill them once their mental state is weakened.” Jhudora stopped and glanced at Illusen’s face. It had lost its colour since the vivid description of the amalgamate’s nursing habits. 

“You’re saying that the creature existed because of me?” Illusen’s forced out through a dry and sticky throat. Jhudora shook her head and lowered herself to sit next to her. Illusen’s hand instinctively clenched and unclenched. It remained tense and jittery even when Jhudora touched her fingers to the back of her hand. 

“It wouldn’t be my first guess.” Jhudora said. “Even though you hated me for so long, I find it difficult to believe that an amalgamate-- a creature supposedly so horrible that few have ever had the chance to witness one-- could spawn itself from your ire alone.” She sighed and gripped Illusen’s hand with what little strength she had. She ran her thumb over Illusen’s knuckles and traced the dark veins that ran under her skin. It was an unconscious gesture of comfort that Illusen revelled in. 

“Your Glade and the forest surrounding it, I would imagine, is an oasis of Earth magic. It’s potent enough to stifle any Dark magic, but that doesn’t explain why the creature roamed free in the woods just behind your residence.” She trailed off, mumbling all possible explanations under her breath while using Illusen’s hand as a stress ball. 

“Breathe, Jhudora.” Illusen freed her bullied hand and touched Jhudora’s cheek. She quieted down and took a deep breath. “What about the dungeons?” She asked before she grew too comfortable. 

“It’s possible.” Jhudora said after a lengthy silence. “The dungeons were places of torment and suffering. It wouldn’t surprise anyone if quite a few amalgamates materialized as a result of it. There are tunnels leading from Faerieland into the Haunted Woods, though I’d rather not find out if they were repurposed into amalgamate travelling routes.” 

“Do you think--” Illusen stopped, chewing at the inside of her cheek. She played with Jhudora’s long fingers, slipping her digits through and out of the spaces. “Do you think you may have created one? An amalgamate, I mean.” 

“I can’t say for sure. I felt hatred towards you, Fyora and Nadezhda during my imprisonment, but never extensively. I’ve not experienced any sort of “link”, mental or physical. Certainly not to the extent that you have.” 

She gave Jhudora’s hand another squeeze and felt the cold flesh begin to warm under her manipulation. Mindlessly, she leaned over and rested her head on the curved expanse of Jhudora’s neck and let out a tiny sigh, feeling muscles tense under her. 

“I never did tell you about my final dream, did I?” Jhudora did her best to shake her head no without jostling Illusen. 

“I was alone, back in the forest.” She said. “It was dark all around me. I had the shield you enchanted and my flimsy wooden dagger-- the one I carved from hawthorn wood.” She smiled when Jhudora made a noise of approval. “I had no choice but to keep walking forward; the trees bent around me and swallowed the path, barring my retreat. I think, subconsciously, I wanted to face the creature and vanquish it once and for all.” 

“You’ve never killed anything before.” Jhudora said. Illusen leaned into the rumbling of her throat. 

“Never.” She said. “Not even in dreams. Long ago, I made a sacred vow to never wittingly hurt another living being.” She played with Jhudora’s hand and stroked the fleshy part of her thumb. “I didn’t have a choice this time.” 

“Once I arrived where it wanted me to be, it charged at me from the darkness. I could see its glistening skin, wet with blood and other fluids, and dark, empty eye sockets illuminated by the shield. It bounded at me, and I barely had time to hold my shield in front of myself before it swiped it out of my grip. My dagger didn’t intimidate it, but the strangest thing happened.” 

“It sat back on its hindquarters and looked at me. Not as prey and certainly not as an equal, but like a young girl looking at a curio for the first time. We stared at each other for some time. After it had its fill of observation, it got up and walked off. When I woke up, I had a shallow cut on my stomach from where it nicked me, but I never saw it in my dreams again.” Illusen slowly breathed out through her mouth. They sat in silence, the only noise being the rush of winter wind jostling the bare trees down below and the faint rush of the waterfall. 

“Then I suppose it really is gone.” Jhudora broke the silence, shuffling her body so it sat straight against the wall. “Perhaps not dead, just in a state of nonexistence.”

“You don’t hate me anymore.” She clarified. Illusen shook her head. “Then it has no reason to exist. Its catalyst is gone.” A short, wry smile crawled its way onto her lips. “You starved it to death.” 

Illusen smiled, too, and brought Jhudora’s hand up to her mouth. She brushed her lips against the back of her fingers and lowered it back into her lap. Jhudora’s shoulders tightened, and the wash of purple that darkened her cheeks emboldened Illusen more. 

“Thank you.” She said, entwining their fingers to prevent Jhudora’s inevitable escape. 

“For?” Jhudora said. She struggled to keep her voice steady and her breathing regular when Illusen pressed herself firmly against her arm. 

“It may not have been your intent, but your enchantment allowed the shield to detect the presence of danger even in my dreams. I don’t dare to think of what might happen if it hadn’t.”

Jhudora swallowed. “All enchanted objects will heed their bearer’s call, even in an unconscious state. Provided they were enchanted by someone with half a functioning brain.” 

“You’re not short in that department.” Illusen said. “Regardless, thank you. Your proficiency has saved my life once more.” 

“Oh, please.” She scoffed. Illusen only smiled, leaning up and pressing a feather-light kiss to the corner of Jhudora’s lip. She beamed with innocence as Jhudora sputtered. Her cheeks coloured until they matched the vivid pansies and violets that flourished in the gentle springtime. 

Jhudora could only stare at her, uncomprehending and with her lips parted in possible protest. No words left her mouth; Illusen took it as a good sign. She squeezed their interlocked hands once more and returned to her reading. Multiple times she heard Jhudora swallow and saw the undulation of her throat. She heard her breathing hitch in her throat as she tried in vain to salvage her aloof facade. 

The words on the page made little sense, yet she felt nothing but the exhilaration that came with unlocking the convoluted mechanism that was Jhudora’s mind. 

*

The very next week was filled with morning showers, midday thunderstorms, and the beginnings of a light snowfall as the sun began its descent. It made travelling between the lands more difficult than it had to be, and Illusen didn’t dare ask Jhudora for some of her teleportation powder. As the holidays grew near, the number of Neopians who visited the cave, inquisitive of strange artifacts and magical curios, increased as the temperature grew colder. Her supply of magical powder dwindled, and more than once Jhudora had to send a visitor away into the snowy night after their mutual trade. 

Illusen didn’t bother hiding and embraced the gawking looks and invasive questions with open arms. When she could, she would dispel the inane rumours of animosity between Jhudora and herself with a brief hug. She revelled in the way Jhudora’s body would tense when she hugged her, or how the intelligent spark in her eyes would promptly fizzle out when Illusen took her hand in hers. 

After days of nonstop arrivals, the cave’s entrance became doused with a thin layer of water, left from the melted snow unintentionally tracked in by heavy traffic. The interior was filled with miscellaneous potions resting on their racks, empty glass bottles ready to be filled with whatever concoction Jhudora brewed, and endless miniature towers of spell books and potion recipe books. Jhudora’s brain was fried, and she often took solace in what little quiet she had by leaning against the cave wall and letting Illusen rub at her temples and hum soothing Earth faerie ballads into the crisp air. 

Illusen brushed a strand of hair out of Jhudora’s face and tucked it behind her pointed ear. She hummed a song about an old grandmother and her islands and smiled when Jhudora’s eyes slid closed. She, too, had come to enjoy the quiet times between them. 

She did her best not to jostle her exhausted friend as a haggard-looking Tecko took tentative steps into the cave. In his hands was a collection of leather-bound books tied together with sturdy bamboo fibres. Illusen lowered Jhudora against the cave wall, taking one last glance at her sleeping figure to ensure her neck wasn’t uncomfortably positioned or her spine angled in a way that beckoned a sore back come morning. With a quizzical look on his spotted face, the Tecko handed her the stack of books. Illusen selected the vial of rolling green fluid Jhudora had specifically set aside for him. He nursed the vial in his hands and scampered down the long flight of stairs after bidding her a hasty goodbye. 

Illusen watched him depart, making sure that his feet didn’t slip on the stairs and send him tumbling onto the ground below. The moon illuminated the dark staircase and cast light on the snow-covered grass. Jhudora had yet to stir. Illusen rubbed at her arms and crouched down. She gathered Jhudora into her arms with little difficulty, resting her head on her shoulder and tucking her arm underneath her legs. 

It would be dangerous to try and fly with such a delicate parcel. Many times, she had to duck her head or maneuver Jhudora’s body out of the way of protruding rocks, but they made it into what remained of the castle’s living quarters with ease. She wasn’t surprised to see her eyelids fluttering, the shallow undulation of her throat as she swallowed or hear joints pop as Jhudora stretched her neck. Illusen gripped the doorknob with a briefly freed hand and twisted it. She bumped open the door with her shoulder, much to Jhudora’s dismay, and smiled when the grip on her shoulders tightened as the wooden door swung open in a wide arc. 

The red blankets were well worn; holes were sewn together with white thread and faults too big and gaudy for a simple needle were patched over with rough fabric. The pillows were deflated from repeated use but sprang back to life as Illusen fluffed them. Jhudora sat on the edge of the bed, watching her mercilessly beat life into something so flat. She picked at a white thread. 

Illusen rested the pillows against the headboard and leaned over to deliver her daily kiss to Jhudora’s cheek. “Have a good night.” She said. “Stay warm.” 

Jhudora grabbed her arm just as she turned to go. Illusen bit the inside of her cheek and suppressed any premature joy. “It’s snowing.” Jhudora said, voice as monotone as she could make it. “It wouldn’t be good for your wings if you flew home.” 

“Are you worried about my wings freezing and snapping?” Illusen joined her on the edge of the bed and rested her hand on a bony knee. “Don’t be. I’ve flown home during worse weather.” 

“You’ve not eaten anything this evening.” 

“True, but I’ve gone without food for longer. A single missed meal won’t be the end of the world.” 

Jhudora took a deep breath through her nose. Illusen savoured the look of pure irritation she shot at her once she breathed out. “I’m asking you to stay.” Those words come out slower than molasses and more begrudgingly than pulling teeth, but Illusen knew immediately that she would fight tooth and nail to hear them again. 

She took Jhudora’s hands in her own and squeezed them. “Of course, I’ll stay.” She planted another kiss on her cheek, intending to take advantage of Jhudora’s allowance towards physical contact, even if it was only for the night. 

The mattress wasn’t as lumpy as it looked. The pillows were stuffed with downy feathers, and the blankets proved to be good protection against the harsh winds that howled outside and seeped in through small cracks in the brick wall. Jhudora’s wings were cold against her skin and jutted against her front. Illusen smiled as she shifted. She placed a hand against the middle of her back, feeling the muscle tense under her touch. They looked at each other once Jhudora rolled onto her side. 

Illusen lifted her arm and pulled her in. She pressed a kiss to her forehead and allowed herself a bit of smug satisfaction at the heat that rose to Jhudora’s face. They were positioned so that Jhudora’s head rested against Illusen’s strong bicep. Illusen tucked her chin on top of her head. 

“Good night.” She mumbled and received a shift and the sensation of Jhudora’s lips against the base of her neck as a response. 

Their penchant for cat and mouse left Illusen with too many unanswered questions rattling around in her skull at night, but their current game, whatever it may be, rendered her wide awake and engulfed in the smell of old parchment and incense. 

When the dim rays of sunlight poked through the boarded windows, it came as no surprise to Illusen to find the spot next to her empty and the bedsheets hastily tucked under the mattress. She sat up and mussed her hair out of her face, placing a hand on the propped pillow. It was still warm with what little of Jhudora’s body heat it absorbed during the night. 

If she strained her ears and blocked out all other distractions, she would hear the sounds of the metal cauldron boiling spring water or the gentle sound of Jhudora flipping through whatever tome she decided to decipher today. Illusen disentangled herself from the covers, pausing to tuck in the corners and make her side of the bed as neatly as she could, and found herself approaching the nightstand positioned defiantly away from the rest of the furniture. A thick, resilient layer of dust had settled on its surface and coated every groove and splinter. 

The only thing mercifully free of dust was a shattered glass mirror. Its reflective surface spiderwebbed into large chunks and small slivers. Illusen looked into the mirror and hundreds of eyes stared back. She didn’t dare pick it up-- the bits of broken glass could fall out and spread all over the floor. If Jhudora kept such a thing, even in its sorry state, then it must’ve had its use. She hurried out of the room before her overbearing curiosity got the better of her. 

Jhudora was, expectedly, hunched over a pair of weathered books. There was a bucket of still steaming water sitting near the cauldron and a clean washcloth folded next to it. Illusen knocked on the cave wall to make her presence known. Jhudora stopped her rapid scrawl to utter a short “Good morning” and gesture toward the bucket. 

“Dusty castle beds aren’t anyone’s favourite vessel to sleep on.” She said. Illusen took the bucket and moved to a space where her extended legs weren’t in danger of knocking over the metal cauldron. 

“One night wasn’t so bad. I can barely notice the crick in my neck.” Jhudora exhaled a short breath which Illusen had come to recognize as a dry laugh. She dipped the washcloth into the bucket, wrung it out, and cleaned around her face, neck, and arms. 

It had stopped snowing; the atmosphere was still foggy and the sky a bright grey. Everything was blanketed in a heavy layer of snow. Illusen could see red and orange lights zooming in the distance-- Fire Faeries caught out after a rambunctious night of drinking-- before they disappeared into the horizon. The vivid pink of Faerieland, too, was quenched by the stifling snow. It was a lovely view, almost tantamount to Meridell’s winter. 

“The Day of Celebrating is soon.” She said. “In about a week or so.” 

“So it is.” Jhudora replied and creased the corner of both her tomes. “Do you have plans?” 

It was a simple question, but Illusen beamed all the same. “I do. What about you, Jhudora? Do you do anything festive? Turn the candles flames red, white and green perhaps?” 

Another short breath. They came easier with time. “Nothing of the sort. It’s just an ordinary day for me. I get the occasional last-minute visitor requesting some ludacris potion or charm that would’ve been feasible if I had simply been given more _time_ , but it never crossed their tiny minds that an object of that efficacy would req-- why do you look at me like that?” 

From the way her cheeks ached and her heart fluttered with every beat, Illusen knew that she looked like an enraptured, gobsmacked idiot. It wasn’t every day that Jhudora ranted about inconsiderate Neopians, but she felt as if she was privy to another side of her, a side that wasn’t afraid to channel intense emotions through an outlet other than dry wit. It was invigorating. 

“You’re ranting.” She said. Jhudora raised a brow at her, but Illusen hopped to her feet and pushed a finger against her lips before a sarcastic retort could escape. “You’re ranting about a topic that wasn’t herbology or chemistry.” Jhudora, tolerating Illusen’s finger against her mouth, merely rolled her eyes. 

“Your nose scrunches up when you do.” She lifted her finger and tapped her nose. “It’s cute.” She was fully prepared for teeth bared in a lukewarm snarl. Illusen tapped her nose again and fluttered out of harm’s way before Jhudora could grab her. 

“Mock me more and I’ll double your reading.” 

“I’d never mock you.” She said. “I meant what I said.” 

“Comparing me to a mangy Angelpuss is hardly a way to get on my good side.” Jhudora paused as a fit of coughs shook her body. She grabbed the nearest handkerchief and buried her nose and mouth within. Illusen rubbed her back, feeling the muscles and thin skin heave with every wet cough, and suppressed a sigh of relief when the fit subsided and Jhudora took a deep breath. 

“There you go again, putting words into my mouth.” Illusen chided her gently. Jhudora tsked. “If anything, you’re a Crokabek.” She smiled at the unimpressed look in her eyes. “Dark and mysterious. Intimidating at first glance, maybe a little off-putting, but a sweetie underneath that rough exterior.” 

Jhudora raised her hand and flicked a finger. Two books tugged themselves loose from the bookshelf and soared the short distance, landing in front of Illusen with a soft _thump_. The leather covers sprang back, exposing ancient texts and monochrome illustrations. A soft brush of air wafted against her face as the pages flipped and eventually stilled, revealing the bookmarked section down to the last note Jhudora made her take. 

“You’re behind.” Her voice was hoarse. She turned away before Illusen could see her face and sat down on her stool. “The least you could do is learn something.” 

Illusen felt what she could only describe as insurmountable joy when Jhudora’s eyes glazed over as she went down each line without making an addition to her parchment. 

*

The Day of Celebrating came quickly, and with it Illusen’s house was flooded with cheerful voices, hearty toasts for good health, and vibrant lights. It had become a tradition of hers to hold a feast on the Day of Celebrating for those who were too poor to afford an extravagant meal, or for those who did not have anyone to spend the most joyous day of the year with. All were welcome; none were turned away. 

She had spent days feverishly cooking, baking, and stewing various dishes from Faerieland and Meridell until her kitchen was stuffed with the overlapping aromas of soups, stews, and freshly baked bread. Her wooden table was exchanged for a banquet table with a long, blue runner. She set out plenty of goblets, plates, and cutlery for the impending crowd. 

Families and individuals began to trickle in as the sun set. Same as the previous years, the deluge began as a mild stream, only to evolve into a rushing river as the moon began to rise. Illusen smiled at familiar faces and greeted unfamiliar ones with a warm smile and a plate teeming with food. 

The hearty potato stew was always the first to go, quickly followed by the spinach, walnut, and dried cranberry salad. Illusen sat down by the fireplace, legs crossed and nursing a goblet of ale, as the snowflakes began to gather at her window. She watched the revelry with a tired smile, having eaten her fill and partaken in more than enough small talk for one night. She could hear bits and pieces of nearby conversations despite her best efforts not to eavesdrop. 

The ale warmed her stomach and, alongside the gentle heat of the fireplace, caused her eyelids to droop. The bright festivity was nice, but she had more than become accustomed to the serene quiet of Jhudora’s promontory. The distant rush of the waterfall and the occasional bellowing wind and rainstorm were all that interrupted the silence. 

She had elected not to extend an invitation, but they both knew the answer would be no. If circumstances were different-- if Jhudora wasn’t trapped by an unseen barrier and forced to sustain herself with magic-- then she hoped she would say yes, even if it was hesitant. 

Large crowds and loud conversations would drive her away, but the thought of curling up with Jhudora in front of a crackling fireplace in an otherwise quiet home, each with a goblet of spiced ale in hand, was too sweet to pass up. It remained in the forefront of her mind as she sipped from her goblet and offered warm smiles and gentle small talk to the Neopians who came to sit beside her. 

Even when they were younger, they had never spent a proper Day of Celebrating together. When they were orphan children, the matron would cook up a basic meal consisting of stew, boiled vegetables, and bread. Everyone was expected to get along and make merry. Eventually, they outgrew the orphan home; Jhudora had made a name for herself as an aspiring sorceress and enchantress while Illusen drifted aimlessly, offering help and coin to any faerie that needed it. Their lives drifted apart, but they remained on pleasant terms. 

Illusen took a sip of her ale. It had lost its warmth as she revisited memory after memory. She stared into the crackling fire as she remembered the closest approximation they had to a Day of Celebration dinner: Illusen spent the night in Jhudora’s small, drafty home and they cooked up a basic stew of vegetables, cornstarch and broth. It wasn’t much, but their stomachs were full, and they leaned against one another for company and warmth. 

She tried to take another sip of her ale, only to find her goblet drained. They were barely adult faeries when they spent their first real Day of Celebrating together. She stifled a sigh and diverted her attention from her empty goblet to the banquet table. Few guests loitered around, even fewer were still eating. The company that gathered around her had long left; the pillows they sat on were cold. 

They were too young to fully appreciate each other’s company and the significance of the holidays. If young-Illusen knew that she wouldn’t see Jhudora for one hundred and twenty years, would she continue to be as flighty as she was, or would she latch onto Jhudora’s arm and never let go? If young-Jhudora knew that Illusen would cause her imminent incarceration, would she turn her back and shun her as Illusen did? 

If only there was a way to know when they lived in the good old days before they left them forever, only retaining a memory and a heart full of regrets. The guests were all gone. Illusen stood up. Everyone had the decency to throw away their trash and set aside their dirty dishes in a neat pile. 

She filled her goblet with water and brought it to her lips. The leftover food would have to be donated and the dishes done. Surely the soup kitchen wasn’t open at this hour? She’d have to take it down tomorrow, but tonight, Jhudora was more important. 

The dishes were forgotten and the leftover food hastily scraped into tupperware and sealed for easy transport. She braved the biting cold for a brief moment when she rushed into her garden to snip some witch hazel off the blossoming tree and held the branch tight in her hand as she pulled on a coat and began her flight to Faerieland. 

The thick snowfall had it difficult to navigate, but the dim glow of Jhudora’s served as a beacon in the night. The cauldron spat out few bubbles as the fire beneath it flickered its last embers. Illusen appeared like a spectre in the fog, robbing her of her silent evening. Before her feet could touch the ground, her wings propelled her straight into Jhudora’s arms. 

She hugged her tight and breathed in the smell of parchment and smokey incense. Jhudora, still and stiff beneath her embrace, tentatively wrapped her arms around Illusen’s body. She let out a tiny wheeze when squeezed. 

“I didn’t expect you to show.” Jhudora said, taking a deep inhale when the arms around her finally relaxed. “Tonight’s the Night of Celebration, isn’t it? Aren’t you busy?” 

Illusen swallowed, resisting the urge to dive back in and stay wrapped around Jhudora until the sun rose in the morning. “The guests left sooner than expected. I would’ve come early the next morning if they hadn’t.” 

“The snow’s coming down awfully hard.” They still clutched each other: Illusen’s arms wrapped around Jhudora’s neck and Jhudora’s arms fidgeting every so often. She took ahold of her hands and found them trembling. 

“I’m not running away anymore, Jhudora,” Illusen said. “and neither should you.” Jhudora’s hands, gripping tightly onto hers, were frigid. A wave of dark purple washed over her face when Illusen brought her hands to her mouth and kissed them. 

She held on when Jhudora tried to pull away. “Don’t play with me.” Jhudora said. “Not tonight. I thought you were better than this.” The tips of her ears were tinged a deep purple. Illusen laced their fingers together and remained silent until Jhudora met her eyes. 

“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.” She loosened her grip, giving her enough space to move away. Jhudora allowed Illusen to squeeze her hands once, twice. “I didn’t know how dull my existence had become until you forced me to open my eyes. I may have settled for the humdrum Meridell life, but I never want to go back to the way things were before I met you again. I can’t.” She kissed Jhudora’s fingers again, feeling the firm bone under thin skin. 

Jhudora stood there, eyes wide and lips parted in shock. Her face was flushed purple, and Illusen knew from the burning sensation spreading across the bridge of her nose, rising to the tips of her ears, that she looked the same. 

“I need you to tell me that I’m still sane.” She licked her lips and found her confidence before it could melt away. Jhudora was silent, but her hands remained clasped around Illusen’s. “Please. Look me in the eyes, Jhudora, and tell me that you feel something, too.” 

She must’ve looked ridiculously desperate standing there, latched onto Jhudora with a heart on her sleeve. Jhudora’s eyes lifted from their clasped hands and met her’s with resounding clarity. The tiny nod of her head made her heart pound and sent her scrambling to throw her arms around Jhudora’s neck. She pulled her close and planted a kiss on her steaming, purple cheek.

“I hope you’re not expecting me to turn into a sappy, hopeless romantic.” Jhudora found her voice, and Illusen smiled into her neck. 

“Never. I think I can do that for both of us.” She cupped her face and brushed her thumbs across tired eye bags. Her face was smooth and radiated heat. 

Illusen leaned in and rested her forehead against Jhudora’s. She saw the galaxy in her eyes: flecks of black embedded deep in the purple iris, a dark outer ring separating purple eye from magenta sclera. It was intoxicating, sharing such close, intimate space with someone she despised a mere year ago but now had become an irreplaceable part of her life. 

Illusen wasn’t sure if she dipped down or Jhudora nudged herself up, but they were kissing. Her hands gripped her shoulder, and Jhudora’s hands found their way into Illusen’s hair, messy from the raging Faerieland winter winds, and pulled her close. Jhudora’s body bumped against her worktable, jostling spellbooks and that blasted alchemy tome. When they pulled away from each other, Jhudora’s lips were swollen, and her eyes shone brighter than ever before. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” Illusen asked, looping her arms back around her neck. Jhudora pulled her in for a quick peck. 

“Don’t flatter yourself.” She said. “You figured out what we both needed before I knew I wanted it.” Coming from Jhudora, such congratulation was the highest praise. Illusen kissed her nose, her lips, and finally moved down to her neck. 

“Don’t believe for a moment that this excuses you from your reading.” She tried her very best to leave a mark on her neck. Jhudora’s grip on her hair tightened. Her nails scratched against Illusen’s scalp, and a soft, unwitting groan pried itself loose from her lips as Illusen kissed every inch of her throat. 

“I’ll try to keep my enthusiasm in check.” She mumbled breathlessly. 

“See that you do.” 

“You’re no stranger to gifts, are you?” Illusen played with the tips of Jhudora’s ears, kissing them and tugging at the earlobe with her teeth. She smiled when she saw her hand clench the worktable's edge. 

Jhudora choked out a cough. Illusen took the opportunity to lick at the hollow of her throat, kissing it once for good measure. “If you mean poisonous mushrooms and explosive potions, then, yes, I’m quite familiar with the concept of gifts.” 

It was hardly a task to lift her into her arms. Despite her complaints, Jhudora didn’t thrash about and flung her arms around Illusen’s neck as they lifted into the air. She didn’t have time to stifle the candle. 

“Some weather we’re having.” Illusen beat her wings faster, staying close to the few oil lamps that dotted the walls. Snow sneaked in through cracks in the ceiling and giant, missing chunks of the walls. It had transformed from a thick snowfall to a rampant blizzard. Illusen dipped her head and kissed Jhudora’s cheek. 

“It’ll be a lot warmer in the dormitory.” Jhudora held on tighter when she felt her arms sprout goosebumps. The sheer cold made it difficult to feel her fingers, much less flex them, but Illusen’s arms held onto her all the same. 

The dormitory corridors were in much better shape than the rest of the castle. The walls were intact, there were few gaps in the ceiling, and the stairs and furniture showed little signs of aging. 

“Let me down,” Jhudora said. As soon as her feet hit the ground, a wave of coughs wracked her body. She pressed a hand to her mouth, chest heaving and eyes watering, as her other hand fumbled for a handkerchief. She waved Illusen away when she placed her hands on her shoulders and straightened her. 

Jhudora’s eyes were shut tight as she held the handkerchief to her mouth. Her breathing was uneven, and Illusen felt her heart twist as a final, wet hack reverberated through the empty chamber. The handkerchief remained against her mouth. Jhudora’s hand massaged at her throat, soothing the abused tendons. 

The kitchen was not far, Illusen remembered. The kitchen had water. Even though Jhudora did not drink, it would alleviate any pain that arose during her fit. She wouldn’t be long, she promised, and sprinted off before Jhudora had the chance to open her eyes and nod. When her feet could not provide the speed she desperately needed, she leaped into the air and flapped her wings until her muscles tingled with exertion. 

She filled the pitcher with crystalline water that flowed from the waterfall and hurried back. By the time she returned, her short nails had embedded deep grooves into her palm, and the water pitcher’s handle bit into her bone. 

Jhudora sat with her back against the wall. Her handkerchief was nowhere to be seen. She didn’t look up as Illusen approached and knelt beside her, filling a small cup with water. She pressed the cup into Jhudora’s hands. 

“You know I don’t need water.” Jhudora spoke, her voice low and tired. Illusen pushed the pitcher away but wrapped Jhudora’s fingers around the cup’s handle. 

“Please.” She mumbled. “For me. To help your throat.” 

After staring daggers at the cup, Jhudora raised it to her lips and took the tiniest of sips. Illusen allowed a smile to cross her lips, but it did nothing to sweep away the worry that cluttered her mind. Jhudora looked paler than before. She pressed a kiss to her cheek and found it cold and wet. 

“Thank you.” Jhudora said. She set the cup aside, still full of water. Illusen kissed her properly, held her face in her hands, and tasted blood on her lips. 

“I want to.” Jhudora said as they pulled away from each other. She covered Illusen’s hand with her own and looked at her with tired but bright eyes. Illusen leaned forward and embraced Jhudora in a hug, feeling the rapid tempo of her heart as it pounded in its chamber. She heard Jhudora exhale through her nose. 

“I want to.” She repeated once more. 

The door to Jhudora’s room was unlocked and pushed open. The bed, neatly made, was desecrated by two bodies falling atop it. Snow pelted against the thick windowpanes. The door slammed shut, and the candle wicks flickered to life with a snap of Jhudora’s fingers. 

Getting Jhudora’s attire off proved to be a worthy challenge. Illusen planted a firm kiss on her collarbone as her fingers located the zipper hidden behind a flap. Her teeth bit down on the flesh of Jhudora’s neck and savoured the soft moan that came from under her. She tugged Jhudora’s attire off, exposing sharp, jagged shoulders and bones wrapped taut with skin. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Illusen’s top joined Jhudora’s clothing in a forgotten pile on the edge of the bed. Jhudora nodded her head and tugged Illusen’s mouth back down to her chest. 

“Once.” She admitted. 

“Really? With who?” Jhudora leaned down and kissed Illusen’s nose. She held her face in her hands, peering into green eyes. When no sign of petty jealousy or possession was found, she let her hands fall away. 

“Baelia.” She said, tugging Illusen closer by her skirt. “It happened a while ago-- two, three years or so. It was thunderstorming.” She hissed when Illusen’s hands passed over her chest. 

“Sorry, my hands are riddled with callouses.” 

“Don’t be.” Jhudora took a hand and kissed the palm. “It was a new sensation-- not painful at all.” Illusen smiled and pushed a pillow under Jhudora’s head. She moved down to her chest, kissing down the middle of her breasts. She didn’t count her ribs, but the sight of skin sticking to flesh in the absence of fat seared itself into her memory. 

Illusen rested her cheek on Jhudora’s breast, listening to her heartbeat and breathing in the scent of incense. Jhudora’s hand stroked her hair and caressed her naked back. 

“You’re more muscular than I imagined.” She traced the outline of Illusen’s shoulders and triceps. “It’s nice.” Illusen’s breath caught in her throat and threatened to spill out in the form of a desperate whine. Instead, she gripped Jhudora’s hips and kissed across her chest, fitting her mouth around a nipple as Jhudora arched her back. Her spine was visible; the bumpy ridges jutting out resembled a dragon’s spines. 

“What about you?” Jhudora breathed, panting as Illusen trailed her teeth across her breast. 

“Me?” 

“According to the newspapers,” Illusen scoffed in protest. “you were quite the charmer.” Jhudora grazed her fingernails across Illusen’s clavicle, savouring the deep hum that sounded from her chest. 

“That doesn’t mean I slept around, you know.” Jhudora raised an eyebrow and played with the pointed tips of Illusen's ears, sighing when her mouth roamed back up to her neck. “Well,” Illusen paused. “now that I think about it, I saw Namira often. Kaedri, as well. I think Vilna was also--” She stopped. Jhudora smirked at her and gestured for her to continue. 

“You’re not jealous, are you?” 

Jhudora scoffed. “Of course not. I’m above petty jealousy, though it does amuse me that someone as supposedly austere as you had an entourage of sexual partners.” She kissed Illusen on the corner of her mouth, humming when her shoulders lost their tension. 

“Colour me surprised, Jhudora. I wouldn’t have pictured you and Baelia.” Illusen set her hands on Jhudora’s hips. Her pelvis bones were too sharp, too prominent, and dug into her calloused palm. She rubbed the thin layer of skin with her thumb. 

“Yes,” She deadpanned. “I have an uncontrollable urge to copulate with maidens during undesirable weather.” 

“Seems I’ve caught you on a good day.” Illusen looked up. “Can I take these off?” When Jhudora gave her assent, Illusen peeled off the remainder of her smallclothes and planted a kiss on her inner thigh. 

Jhudora wouldn’t tolerate being treated as a porcelain doll, even if her protruding ribs, boney joints, and thin limbs made her seem frailer than glass. Illusen made sure to be gentle but not coddling. She adored Jhudora’s breathless moans and the curses she spat out between gritted teeth. Her fingers scraped against Illusen’s scalp as she tugged her head closer between her thighs. Jhudora’s feet jostled the leafy wings sprouting from Illusen’s back, and her thighs clamped down tight around her neck. The bed squeaked underneath them. 

Jhudora gripped the bedsheets until her knuckles ran white and thrashed against the hands that patiently held her in place. Illusen’s lips shone as she kissed Jhudora’s inner thigh and stroked her stomach. Jhudora’s chest heaved with every desperate inhale. Her cheeks were stained with dark purple. Illusen wiped her mouth and disentangled herself from the legs hung around her shoulders. 

“Are you all right? I hope I wasn’t too rough.” She laid beside Jhudora and gathered her into her arms, kissing the top of her head. Jhudora’s breath came in shallow tufts.

She shook her head and rested her forehead against Illusen’s chest. “You were perfect.” She shifted onto her side and kissed the hollow of Illusen’s throat. 

“Sleepy?” Illusen asked. 

“Somewhat, but it’s only natural.” They kissed again, and Illusen wrapped her arms around Jhudora’s waist. “Thank you for visiting.” 

“You don’t have to thank me, Jhudora. I wasn’t about to leave you alone during the holidays.” 

“Regardless, I’m glad you came.” Illusen found herself on her back. Jhudora straddled her hips and trailed her fingernails down her chest, pausing to stroke a heavy patch of freckles with her thumb. Illusen’s face bloomed with red. Jhudora’s skin shimmered faintly in the dim candlelight. She bent down to kiss her and Illusen ran her hands through long, soft hair. 

“You’re gorgeous.” Illusen breathed when they separated. 

Jhudora made a face. “You’re drunk.” Illusen laughed and grabbed at her hands.

“I’ve barely had any spiced wine.” 

“Drunk on endorphins, then.” 

Jhudora took pride in bespotting Illusen’s neck with bite marks and hickeys. She didn’t bother restraining her hands with magic, given how loudly and easily Illusen moaned with each nip to her collar or kiss to her chest. She was covered in freckles. 

What remaining clothing Illusen wore was stripped away and tossed aside. She whined as Jhudora dragged a nail down her thigh, stopping just above her knee. The Gods must have felt generous, as Jhudora wasted no time in squeezing every moan and scream out from Illusen’s throat. Her legs shook as Jhudora lifted her head to plant a cheeky kiss on her stomach. 

“You’re a little puppy.” Jhudora said and wiped at her lip with her thumb. “One touch and you’re a quivering mess.” Illusen pouted and sat up, trapping Jhudora in her embrace. 

“You must’ve used your magic to amplify my skin’s sensitivity.” Jhudora kissed her cheek. Illusen tried her best not to shudder when Jhudora’s fingers combed through her hair. 

“We both know that’s not true.” Illusen nuzzled into her neck, dragging her down onto the mattress and pulling the covers over their naked bodies. Jhudora muttered a few words under her breath, rubbing her face as the sweat evaporated from their bodies and the stuffy air dissipated from the room. 

Illusen smiled and kissed her jaw. “Do you still sleep with a nightlight?” 

“According to many Neopians, I’m scarier than anything in the dark.” Jhudora snapped her fingers and extinguished the candle. “Perhaps I should look into claiming royalties from the writers that use me as their antagonist.” 

Jhudora felt small in Illusen’s arms, but her skin gradually warmed from the wool blankets and the kisses pressed to her neck and lips. The smell of incense and fallen leaves lured them into a deep sleep. They slept peacefully through the night, never stirring as the blizzard outside rampaged and lined the windowsill with a heavy layer of snow. Illusen experienced no nightmares.

Dawn brought little light into the bedroom. Snow buttressed the windows, denying the morning sun its rightful entry. Illusen awoke with a peaceful haze cluttering her mind. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, yawned, and encircled her arms around Jhudora’s waist, smiling when Jhudora placed her hand upon her head. 

“Good morning.” Jhudora hadn’t bothered to dress herself. Illusen kissed the side of her stomach, content with lazing around in bed for a few more minutes. 

“Did you sleep well?” Jhudora asked. 

“Of course. Last night was amazing.” Illusen took Jhudora’s hand and kissed her palm. “I hope you haven’t been awake for long. The bed gets cold without you. Come warm me up.” 

“I’m sick.” 

“I have a strong immune system.” Illusen lifted the covers. “Come on, no excuses.”

“No,” Jhudora’s face was unreadable. “I’m sick. I--” She took ahold of Illusen’s chin and lifted it to meet her eyes. “I’m dying, Illusen.” Illusen’s eyes were drawn to the hand Jhudora so desperately wanted to keep out of sight. In her grasp was a white handkerchief blotted with red. 

“What?” She breathed out. Jhudora sighed and stood from the bed. What little of the handkerchief Illusen could see had more red than white. “Dying?” 

“I’ve known I was sick for some time.” Jhudora balled and unballed the handkerchief in her grip. “I never expected the symptoms to worsen so quickly, but when they did, I dedicated my time to finding a cure.” A humourless smile grew on her lips. “And then you showed up.” 

Illusen was silent, alternating her stare between the blankets and Jhudora’s skeletal form. “I didn’t… expedite the illness, did I?” The thought of unwittingly killing Jhudora sickened her to her stomach. 

“No, of course not. That’s impossible. If anything, being around you slowed it down considerably.” Illusen stood and held Jhudora’s wrists in her hands. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? Maybe Fyora could have done something.” 

“There’s not much she can do, even with her court of scholars.” She sighed. “To think if she hadn’t forced you to come here, I may have--” 

“Don’t say that.” Illusen’s grip tightened as she gave a reassuring squeeze. “You would’ve found a suitable treatment.” She kissed her cheek. “I’ll help you. We’ll figure something out.” 

“And if we don’t?” 

Illusen set her jaw and frowned. “You’re not allowed to die, Jhudora. I only just found you.” Her stomach rolled. She swallowed the acrid sensation of bile rising in her throat. Jhudora offered a tiny smile that set her nerves at ease. 

“I always knew you’d be the death of me.” 

“And don’t you forget it.”

*

Jhudora had sent her away with explicit instruction not to return for the remainder of the week. Illusen didn’t take it personally. Jhudora needed time to sort out her emotions, and having her there, fluttering over her shoulder at every turn, would make sensitive matters tense. She sent Illusen home with plenty of alchemical tomes, chock full of handwritten notes and adjustments, to ensure she wouldn’t slack and forget what knowledge she had learned over the months. 

While the material was significantly harder without Jhudora’s tutelage, Illusen stuck with it. She read the material aloud and pretended that it was Jhudora reading it to her. Tati visited her and joined her in struggling to comprehend advanced formulas. None of the tomes had any commentary on curing mysterious, spontaneous diseases. 

Transmutation came easily to her, and within days she was able to transform the clay figure she made into a tiny statue of copper. While copper wasn’t worth much, it gave her something to strive for. One day, she would mould a clay figurine of Tati and transmute it into silver or gold. 

When she returned to Jhudora’s promontory, the empty cavern sent a shock of cold fear through her heart. The cauldron was dry. The fireplace was stagnant. Jhudora’s books were undisturbed, and Illusen felt a lump form in her throat when she set her borrowed tomes back on their shelves. She couldn’t smell Jhudora’s scent in the air or hear her shuffling about in the back room. The winter breeze chilled her exposed wings, but Illusen’s face was hot with fat tears that rolled down her cheeks. 

She sat on Jhudora’s wooden chair and stared at the books, neatly arranged and bound closed with twine, and the flowers that survived through the months under her gentle touch and Jhudora’s diligent watering. Their stalks drooped in respectful remembrance as Illusen allowed her tears to stain the worktable’s surface. 

Deep down she knew that Jhudora wanted to die alone, surrounded by silence and her books. But how could she die with so much unfinished? It jarred her to think that Jhudora sent her away so she may die in peace. 

“You’re crying.” 

Illusen cupped her hands over her ears to stave away the intrusive winds that whistled Jhudora’s voice. Her tears were salty on her lips as the winds whipped and fluttered around her. 

“Illusen, you’re crying.” 

She felt a weight place itself on her shoulder and peered through teary eyes to find Jhudora frowning. Trembling, she touched the hand and found it cold and boney. Jhudora, in all her good nature, withheld most of her comments as Illusen grabbed her in a crushing hug. She buried her face into her shoulder and sobbed. Jhudora rubbed her back and, in her best attempt at comfort, offered a few genuine words of condolence. 

Illusen’s sobs turned to gradual sniffles. Jhudora kissed her head and pulled her face from her shoulder, wiping away tear streaks with her thumb. Illusen looked at her with marvel, as if her slight frown and raised eyebrow were a brand-new occurrence. 

“I have something I want to show you.” Jhudora said and contorted her lips into something resembling a smile. It brought heat to Illusen’s ears and sent her heart into flips, sadness temporarily forgotten. She intertwined their fingers and allowed herself to be led up a winding staircase carved deep into the roof of the cave. It was pitch black until Jhudora released the hatch, flooding the narrow tunnel with the afternoon sun’s light. 

Illusen blinked the darkness from her eyes and clambered out of the tunnel. Jhudora sat cross-legged on a textile blanket and motioned for Illusen to join her. From their vantage point atop the mountain, Faerieland was a meek, pink city in the far distance below. Jhudora leaned into Illusen’s side for warmth. 

“I come up here to think. The silence allows my mind to work more efficiently, and no-one thinks to look for me here.” Illusen could see the dark outline of the Haunted Woods in the far west side, hundreds of miles from Faerieland. Jhudora turned to face her. “You’re the only one I’ve brought up here.”

Illusen licked her lips. “When you sent me away for the week, I thought you wanted to die in peace. I couldn’t sense your presence in the cave, and all your belongings were so neatly organized-- I assumed the worst.” She kissed Jhudora’s cheek, breathing in the familiar smell of incense and parchment. If Jhudora took any offence, she didn’t voice it. 

“I’ll be sure to give you a two-weeks’ notice.” The silence between them was comfortable. Illusen played with Jhudora’s long fingers as they sat and breathed in the wintry air. Jhudora tugged the blanket from underneath them and wrapped it around Illusen’s shoulders once her wings began to tremble from the cold. 

Illusen dangled her legs over the edge, entertaining the idea of jumping off, catching a strong breeze, and allowing the wind to take her wherever it pleased. Jhudora’s small sigh brought her back to reality, and she smiled, taking a lock of Jhudora’s hair and wrapping around her finger. 

“How long has it been since you’ve flown?” She asked. Far below them, a troop of young Fire faeries immolated freshly constructed snowmen and lobbed fiery snowballs at innocent passersby. Jhudora shrugged, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders. Illusen took the hint and wrapped her arm around Jhudora. 

“A while. It’s not easy to fly in a cave.” Illusen chewed the inside of her lip. Jhudora’s nonchalance did nothing to alleviate the gravity of her words.

“If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?” Illusen wrapped the blanket firmly around Jhudora’s shoulders and stood up. 

“Why the sudden interest in my subconscious desires?” 

“Humour me.” She leaned down and kissed Jhudora’s forehead. Her wings fluttered as a breeze rushed through them. 

“If you’re thinking of taking flight, go ahead. Believe it or not, I enjoy watching you fly.” Illusen beamed. “Just make sure your wings don’t seize and snap.” Jhudora paused and added as an afterthought.

“I mean it, Jhudora. If you could have anything in the world, what would it be?” Jhudora looked blankly at her as the wind carried away angry shouts from below. Once Illusen saw the reluctant eye roll, she knew she had won. 

“Do you remember the pastries served at the orphanage every winter? I don’t remember what the matron called them, but I faintly remember their taste. They were cakey, topped with fruit jam, filled with some sort of yellow custard, and got stale quickly if you left them out for too long.” Yes, Illusen knew exactly what she referred to. Such pastries were only brought out for special occasions-- celebrations of adoption, a retirement, or graduation. 

“I remember that you had difficulty finishing your portion.” Illusen smiled. “You always complained that they were too sticky and too sweet.” Jhudora stared at the distant silhouette of Faerieland. 

“You remembered correctly. It was a miracle none of us got cavities.” A frown flitted across her lips, gone before Illusen had the chance to decipher it. “It would be nice to have one again, for old time’s sake.” 

“The bakery sells them.” Illusen said. “I’d be more than willing to fly over and pick a few up.” 

Jhudora raised a brow. “That old recipe withstood the test of time? Unbelievable.” Illusen kissed her cheek. 

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t go anywhere.” She took a running leap off the mountainside and was gone before Jhudora could remind her that she didn’t have a choice. Perhaps it was the thought of sharing sweet pastries with Jhudora that made her delirious, but she was sure she heard her mumble something just before the wind shrieked it away. 

The tenacious winds made it difficult to navigate through the skies and even more tedious to land. Illusen landed just outside Faerieland’s gates, startling the guards to attention. They let her in with a few grumbles before returning to their sleepy post. The unmelted snow piled high on buildings and streets muted Faerieland’s overwhelmingly pink aura. There weren’t many faeries roaming the streets, and the bakery was empty, save for a few employees and a customer or two. 

The bakery smelled of confectioner’s sugar, oven-warmed bread, and vanilla. Few loaves adorned the cooling racks, but the display case housed plenty of sugary pastries. There, next to the chocolate glazed eclairs, were their childhood treats: perfectly baked, shining with egg-wash, and topped with a dollop of berry jam. Illusen bought two and flew back to Jhudora, clutching the paper bag close to her chest to protect it from winter’s bite. 

True to instruction, Jhudora was there when she returned, having left for a brief moment to grab a second blanket. Illusen landed and presented the bag of pastries. Jhudora wrapped the blanket around her shoulders before taking the offering. 

“Thank you for getting them.” She opened the bag and wrinkled her nose. “They smell as sweet as I remember.” Illusen laughed, reached into the bag and plucked out a pastry. 

“Cheers, Jhudora.” She tapped her pastry against Jhudora’s as she fished it from the bag. She took a large bite, immediately regretting it as sweetness flooded her mouth, aching her jaw. Jhudora gave her a pointed look, tearing off a reasonable piece of her pastry. 

“Well,” Illusen managed to swallow her overzealous mouthful. “you were right. It’s cloyingly sweet. No wonder kids love it.” Jhudora nibbled her piece and said nothing. They sat near the mountain’s edge. Illusen resorted to holding her pastry with a napkin. 

“How was it?” Jhudora asked. “Faerieland?” 

“Quiet. There weren’t many faeries out and about.” Illusen wiped her mouth and glanced at her. “Do you miss it?” Jhudora tore off and ate another small chunk. 

“Sometimes. The pink is an eyesore, but…” She sighed. “it’s home. Stories and recollections are one thing, but the experience is another.” She coughed into her napkin, and Illusen’s mouth tasted of blood. 

“I could talk to Fyora.” Illusen said after the coughing subsided. She glanced at Jhudora and found her folding the bloodied napkin, exposing the white and hiding the red. “I think she’ll be willing to let you roam around, especially if I volunteer to chaperone you.” 

“What then?” Jhudora leaned against her shoulder. “I’m not the most favoured faerie, in case you’ve forgotten.” She hadn’t. Illusen kissed her forehead. “The second I show my face, the bells will sound, and the guards will come running with their sharpened twigs and shiny coats of metal.” 

“Maybe at night, then, when everyone’s gone to sleep. We could meander around the Outer Circle during the day, and I could fly us over the city walls when the sun sets.” Jhudora sighed and gripped her hand tight, sugary pastry forgotten. 

“Oh, I’ve been a fool.” She heard her mutter. Jhudora offered no verbal clarification but kissed her with as much force as she could muster. The sharp taste of blood mixed with sweet honey and sour berry. 

Jhudora was no crier, but her face came back wet with tears as they separated. Illusen touched their forehead together and wiped away the streaks that crawled down her face. 

“Talk to me?” Jhudora swallowed and whispered into Illusen’s ear. The hair on the back of her neck stood up, and a jolt went down her spine. She stared at her, eyes wide and mouth agape, until Jhudora cupped her chin and kissed her again. It didn’t prevent Illusen’s mind from short-circuiting, even as Jhudora took her hand, squeezed it once and asked her to stay. 

*

Another week elapsed. Jhudora’s whispered words-- three sharp, distinct syllables-- came from nowhere and sent anxiety into her mind. Those words weren’t coveted by any faerie. To utter them so willingly meant dire circumstance. When she arrived at Jhudora’s cave, she found her sitting at her worktable, quill in hand and eyes staring at nothing. The slow rise and fall of her shoulders reassured her. 

She landed softly and tiptoed in, wrapped her arms around Jhudora’s shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her ear. Jhudora took her hand and led her away from the cave. Away from the stagnant cauldron and unlit fireplace. Illusen made quiet comments about the unusually pleasant weather, the growth of their flowers and herbs, and Jhudora nodded along to her chatter. 

She unlocked the door and pushed Illusen onto the bed. Unlike last time, Jhudora was desperate, her movements and grabs quick. Illusen responded in kind, and before long they were both panting, sweaty and enveloped in the other’s embrace. Illusen held her tongue as Jhudora held her close. She muttered an incantation under her breath and redressed herself in her clothes. Illusen sat with her back propped against the headboard.

“Some weather we’re having. It hasn’t snowed in over a week and a half.” Jhudora crawled back on the bed, sitting close enough to Illusen that their sides brushed. Illusen kept her eyes forward, fixated on the cracked windows and chipped bricks. 

“After I talk to Fyora, we could go to Shenkuu to further your study in homeopathy. Or maybe to Sekhmet? Qasala?” Jhudora didn’t respond but took Illusen’s hand and squeezed it once. “You told me that you wanted to try their exotic fruits. I’ve heard they use all sorts of strange ingredients in their restorative magic.” She was rambling. 

She swallowed and laced her fingers with Jhudora’s. “We could--” Her voice cracked. “We could even get married, you know. The wedding doesn’t have to take place in Faerieland; we could go to Meridell or Brightvale for an official ceremony.” She squeezed Jhudora’s hand. Jhudora’s head rested on her shoulder. 

“I can’t believe it took me so long to find you,” She raised a hand, wiping at her eyes. “and even longer to come around.” She sniffled, feeling her throat close up as she whimpered. “You’ve always known I was a fool, haven’t you?” 

Illusen turned and buried her face in Jhudora’s neck. Her hot tears dripped onto Jhudora’s clothing, wrinkled as Illusen grabbed and twisted it within her hands. She kissed her and found that Jhudora did not taste like blood. Illusen pressed their foreheads together, closing her eyes and blocking out the silence that should have been filled with Jhudora’s heartbeat and sarcastic drawl. Instead, there was only hers, pounding furiously as she sucked in breath after breath of air. Jhudora did not smell like incense or parchment or lavender. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i lied. truth is, the game was rigged from the start.
> 
> This was my first time writing "smut", so any feedback would be much appreciated. Also, thank you all again for sticking by me. I didn't intend for this story to be as long as it is, or take as long as it did, but I'm glad to have been able to write it and experience it all with you. 
> 
> I've got an epilogue planned. Hopefully it'll be posted in the near future.


	9. Epilogue (One More Tomorrow)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of the end.

Illusen tore books off their shelves. Jhudora’s workplace was messy, littered with discarded textbooks, a spilled ink well, and dozens of unfurled scrolls. The tome she was most acquainted with-- the one Jhudora made her read from ever visit-- was missing. She tipped the cauldron over. Nothing spilled out. Illusen rubbed at her eyes, clearing her vision of obstructive tears that formed whenever she gazed upon the walking stick propped against the wall, the flowers sitting on the mantle, or the herbs clinging to life on their strings. 

The tome was under the worktable, having been jostled onto the floor during her frenzied search. Illusen grabbed it, dropped it on the worktable, and ripped open the cover, flipping through pages of incantations, spells, and magical theories. There, towards the end of the tome, scribbled over extensively by Jhudora’s corrections, was instruction for a binding ritual. If Jhudora had bound the amalgamate to herself on a whim, then surely… 

There was sand in the back room. Jhudora never kept any salt or iron fillings. The chalk was on the ground, trampled in half. Parchment was on the work table.There was a letter opener gathering dust on one of the high shelves. 

The alchemy circle was more advanced that anything Illusen had attempted. Her heart pounded in her chest. Sand was laid, stray pebbles were removed, and the appropriate symbols etched with chalk. She cradled Jhudora to her chest. Her body was still malleable, but her skin unnaturally cold. Illusen placed her in the center, carefully tucking her clothing underneath and sweeping hair out of her eyes. 

The laws of alchemy demanded that she offer something of equal value. There was nothing in the world equal to the weight of a life, Jhudora made that very clear. Now Jhudora lay on the cavern floor, still and cold as stone. Illusen pricked her finger on the letter opener and squeezed a few drops of blood onto Jhudora’s cheek. It rolled down her face like water. 

Illusen couldn’t stand to look at pale purple. She grabbed a roll of parchment, tore off a chunk, and dripped the quill into the puddle of spilled ink. Her hand shook as she transcribed Jhudora’s true name just under her own, encircling both with a binding seal. Jhudora would be rightly horrified if she saw her in such a state-- unhinged, finger weeping blood, and fully prepared to cast her namesake away into the unknown. 

Illusen tried her best not to bleed onto the parchment. Jhudora never taught her about blood magic, but she had been curious enough during her one week of exile to flip to the back of the book. There were no animal sacrifices, virgin offerings, or life-long pacts with devils, but blood was a binding ingredient meant to tether one creature to another until death. 

She folded the parchment into a manageable square. She struck a match and held it against the parchment, releasing it to burn within the circle. The ash gathered in Jhudora’s hair. Illusen knelt and touched her fingers to the chalk, soothing her whirling mind and anxious heart. She thought of nothing but Jhudora alive, breathing, sending a sarcastic quip her way every so often. 

The air smelled stale. Her lips were salty. She pressed her fingers into the ground and felt them bend under her desperation. Illusen’s eyes were squeezed shut as she mumbled lines of incantations, pleas to the empty heavens and indifferent hells. The last words fell from her lips. The wind dared not to blow. There was a damning silence, and Illusen cried into her hands for the lives she let slip through her fingers. 

Jhudora didn’t stir as Illusen’s grief drained her energy. She felt an incessant itch on her wrists. When she scratched at it, her fleshed burned and mark bands singed themselves into her wrists. She cried out through gritted teeth as a lance went through her heart. Her vision went white with pain as she collapsed on the cave ground, blood trickling from her mouth. 

When she came to, her tongue was as dry as cotton. Her hand lay within the alchemy circle. Her blood had outlined the various symbols. Illusen snatched it back and cradled her arm to her chest, inspecting the brands around her wrists. They were singed a deep brown, like tanned hide, but the nerves had grown desensitized. Jhudora’s body was nowhere to be found. Illusen sat up and held her head as it swarmed. Dark spots littered her vision. 

She had given her essence and her namesake in exchange for Jhudora’s life. She scratched at the blood that dried on her cheek. Her body was weak, and she was thoroughly perturbed at the desperation in which she acted. Jhudora would have scolded her, banned her from further study if she saw such weakness. 

Illusen crawled over to the bucket, nudged aside during her preparation, and wrung out the rag of what little water it held. She scrubbed away the chalk, the symbols, and the blood, until all that remained was memory seared into her flesh and mind. Jhudora wasn’t coming back. 

*

A thud at her front door startled Illusen from her light sleep. She rubbed her eyes and slipped on a robe. Whoever bothered to jostle her awake didn’t care for a response: there was a dagger embedded deep in the door. She wormed the dagger loose and watched as a note dropped onto the ground. The cursive was difficult to read and the ink smeared across the page. The smell of incense was undeniable. 

Illusen was careful not to wrinkle the note in her hand as she dressed herself and ran out of her cottage. The skies were clear, and the stars shone brightly. The moon illuminated her path, and Illusen ignored the cold as it nipped at her wings and settled against her skin. Faerieland’s night owls lit up the city with lights that rivaled the stars. 

Jhudora’s cave was pitch dark. She landed and took a few steps towards the fireplace. Illusen could feel the residual heat radiating off scorched wood. The city was a quiet hum in the distance. Footsteps pattered behind her. Illusen turned around and braced herself on the fireplace mantle. 

Jhudora looked at her, mouth set in a thin line and eyebrows furrowed. Her skin was paler than before, but she stood in front of Illusen, back straight, arms to the side, and eyes bright. She tolerated the onslaught of messy affection as Illusen tackled her, hugged her, and cried hot tears into her neck. Jhudora’s skin was ice cold. 

“Oh, Illusen,” Jhudora breathed and ran a hand through Illusen’s tangled hair. “what have you done?” Illusen’s body shook with cold and longing. “You’ve gone mad.” 

Illusen sniffled and wiped her eyes with the palm of her hand. Her wrists ached. She squeezed the burns to alleviate the pain. Jhudora took her wrist in her hand and looked from the scar to Illusen to the cursed alchemy tome that lay on the worktable gathering dust. 

Jhudora didn’t bother to open it. “I was dead,” She said and smoothed her thumb over Illusen’s wrist. “but now I’m not. You bound yourself to me, like a dog.” Illusen shook her head and pressed a kiss to Jhudora’s temple. 

“I bound you to me. I had only just found you, and you helped me realize that the life I led, passing days by with monotony, wasn’t a life worth living. We needed each other more than we could put into words.” Jhudora swallowed and stopped Illusen from scratching at her scars. 

“What did you give up for me? A magical soul is priceless, yet you’re not missing any flesh or hair, and your wings are still intact.” Illusen kissed her, held her face in her hands, and whispered Jhudora’s true name into her ear. A shiver went down their spines. 

“Bound by name,” Illusen said. “not by blood.” Jhudora smirked and pecked her on the lips. 

“Clever girl, but be careful who you show those scars to.” She pulled back her sleeves and revealed an identical pair of burns enclosed around her wrists. “I hope you realize the gravity of your sacrifice, Illusen. If I die, then so do you.” 

Illusen wrapped her hands around Jhudora’s slender wrists. “Then don’t go where I can’t follow.”

“You have a right to know,” Jhudora paused and met Illusen’s eyes. “my health deteriorated so drastically not because of my illness, but because of that amalgamate. I bound myself to it, do you remember?” Illusen nodded, numb. “It’s a creature of perverse nature. It exacerbated my condition to the point where I knew I could not survive without divine intervention.” Her lips bore a humourless smile. Illusen sat down on the worktable and pulled Jhudora into her lap. 

Jhudora wrapped an arm around Illusen’s shoulders and kissed her neck. “Don’t distract me.” Illusen batted her eyelashes. “I didn’t know it held such power over me until our rendezvous. I felt it die. Its life drained away, and I could feel my mind begin to slip into insanity. If you had not been there,serving as a tether to reality, I may have gone mad.” Jhudora closed her eyes when Illusen’s lips brushed her forehead. 

“I couldn’t sleep the night we had sex for the first time. I remember waking up and feeling my lungs, heart, and skin blistering with nonexistent heat. I couldn’t breathe. It felt like I was trapped in the depth of hell, being flayed alive by hot pokers and fire pits.” She shuddered out a sigh and laced her fingers with Illusen’s for comfort. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” 

“You slept like a log; I doubt you’d stir even if Faerieland fell out of the sky once more.” 

“Did it hurt the following morning?” Illusen held Jhudora’s hand as if it was porcelain. She shook her head. 

“It faded once the sun rose. I’m relieved that it was only one night of pain, rather than subsequent nights of torment.” Jhudora kissed their intertwined hands. “I think the realization that I had wasted so much of my time searching for the wrong cure was what cut deepest. While it’s true that I still don’t know what disease I had or when I developed it, it wouldn’t have worsened as quickly as it did if not for that damn amalgamate.” She frowned and squeezed Illusen’s hand. “Giving the beast to Fyora wasn’t a smart move. I should have killed it when I had the chance.” 

“And to this day, no-one knows where it fled.” Illusen said. “Why did you tell me your true name?” 

“I trust you.” Jhudora exhaled. The tension in her shoulders and back seemed to evaporate. Illusen smiled and cleared her closing throat. “I don’t need to hear yours, but I do trust you. You deserve it.” 

Illusen kissed Jhudora’s earlobe and whispered five distinct syllables. The wilting flowers jolted to attention as their petals bloomed and stems soaked up water. Jhudora stared at her with wide eyes and parted lips. Illusen pushed her chin up to close her mouth, then kissed her. 

“I trust you.” She said. Jhudora’s lip twitched into a half smile. 

“I believe you.” 

“I don’t know if you heard me, but I was serious when I said that I wished to travel with you. We could go to Shenkuu, or explore the Lost Desert.” Illusen chortled. “I’d love it if you made a home for yourself in Meridell.” 

“I’m bound to you by name, not by blood. As a result, my heart no longer beats.” Jhudora mused. She stood up from Illusen’s lap and tapped her fingers against her thigh. “I’m no longer alive by any technical means, but I move and speak as if I was.” She turned to face Illusen. 

“Fyora erected this barrier to keep me in for as long as I lived to ensure that I could not practice the forbidden arts.” She bit her lip and fixated the night sky with a burning glare. “I do not live anymore.” 

Illusen stood and wrapped her arms around Jhudora’s waist. “I’ll take you around the globe. Anywhere your heart desires. We have all the time in the world to make up for lost opportunities.” 

“Don’t get my hopes up, Illusen.” 

Illusen did just that and kissed the back of her neck. “I’m not afraid, Jhudora, and neither are you. Regardless of the outcome, I’ll talk to Fyora about it all. Everything. No more lies.” 

She felt the undulation of Jhudora’s throat as she swallowed. “You seem so certain that this will work.” 

“I have faith in you. What more could I need?” Jhudora didn’t bulge. “Go on. You’re stalling. It’s not like you to be so apprehensive.” 

The clouds produced a light trickle of snow that gathered inside the cave. The winds blew flurries that dampened the fire and flipped open the alchemical tome. Miles away, Illusen slept peacefully in her cocoon of blankets. Jhudora closed her novel and extinguished the candle, bathing them in darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So marks the end of their story. All in all, I'm rather pleased with how it turned out. I'll be working on a prequel in the future, but for now I'll be turning my attention to other fandoms and characters. I appreciate everyone who came and stayed for this journey-- thank you very much for giving me a chance to entertain.


End file.
